The story of Durin's shield
by Ardnamurchan
Summary: From a black dawn, she will meet many people, discover many truths, learn about herself, and maybe realize that we all have a goal to achieve. It just takes some time to find out that Mahal will use her for his own purposes… OC/Thorin. Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**The story of Durin's shield**

**_Disclaimer:_** I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson or to the singers and bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_ : Only the prologue and the epilogue will be written in first-person singular, from the main character's point of view.

This story focuses on important moments of the main character's life.

Each chapter bears the title of one of my favorite songs (no lyrics).

On with the story. Read, enjoy and review, please.

* * *

**Chapter 1 : Prologue**

My life started with a black dawn.

Clouded by the autumn mists and rains, I was born in the city of Esgaroth, also known as Lake-town. My mother, Leann, told me later about the night I was born. She smiled as she described it in those terms: "I would never forget how such a small wailing creature brought so much light into my life".

The lines at the corners of her mouth would widen gently, as she used to stroke my hair before I went to sleep.

I know now that I came into this world in the year 2850 of the Third Age. There's a letter from my grandfather mentioning my existence to one of his relatives in 2853, saying that I'm around 3 years old.

It was in the summer of 2850 that my mother returned to Esgaroth, from a journey into the West. She had been gone for 3 years when she returned to her father's home, a strongly built timbered house in the city center, just behind the Town Hall.

My family, we were wool merchants for three generations now. My grandfather, Old Ingor, was well known in the city : his company bought the wool to the farmers around Lake-town, stored it, and organized the convoys to have it delivered to different place of Middle-Earth. The wool would then be sold to be transformed into whatever uses their owners saw fit.

It was during the spring of 2847 that my mother, then aged 20, managed to escape the constant vigilance of her father and brother, and joined one of these convoys, leading her then outside Esgaroth, into the wild... Delighted of this new-found freedom, and of the opportunity to escape the tedious courtship of several greedy young men, eager to wed the daughter of the wealthy Old Ingor.

She was not seen for three years, and I still don't know all the details of her adventures, and what truly happened to her during that time.

Grandfather was angry when she left, but the anger soon turned to sadness, and he started to take breaks from business, relying more and more on his son, Ebor, to run the company.

When Leann returned to Esgaroth and to her father's house, she did because she had no other place to go and needed protection, being then 7 months pregnant.

Her father welcomed her without anger. He had thought that he would never see again his daughter, that she had died somewhere in the wild.

Her return warmed his ageing heart.

Her brother was not so forgiving: she had brought shame on the family by disobeying, leaving, and returning about to give birth to an illegitimate child. Furthermore, she was no further use to the family, soon to be a single mother, unable to wed. There would be no interesting marriage alliance with another wealthy or powerful family. A inevitable gap had been created between the two siblings, who could not understand each other's point of view and way of living.

Leann was then to be sheltered and confined to housework in penance for her mistakes. Only her father remained kind towards her afterwards. Forgiveness often comes with old age.

Little did anybody know that during those 3 years away in the wild, my mother had never been happier, had never lived fuller. She came back because she realized she was pursuing a hopeless dream, because there was no other choice. But she was not sad, only a little melancholic at times.

She always used to tell me that a part of her dream had come true, and that it was standing and growing right in front of her eyes.

So the night I was born, the wind was blowing hard against the windows, the rain pouring outside, deepening the pools on the muddy streets of Lake-town. The house was creaking with the gusts of wind, assaulting it from every corner. My mother was alone with her pain that night.

She told Ebor afterwards that she didn't need anybody to conceive her child, and certainly not anyone to deliver it. Ebor slapped her hard on the cheek for this outburst; and told her it was only because of their father that he didn't throw her out of the house.

My mother was quite brave and cheeky all her life. That aspect of her character prevented her, I must admit, to fit in the conservative society of Esgaroth, where men were leading and women were supposed to follow.

The sky was so dark on the first day of my life, that my uncle saw it as a bad omen. To him, I would always be something that should not be.

I would realize later how important my uncle's statement was then, and how it would frame all our relations.

Crowned with a fuzz of dark blond hair and bright green eyes, I was a very small baby, and very quiet. Oddly, my ears were slightly larger than average. As nobody knew who my father was, I thought for a long time I was a daughter of the Elves or some fairy creature.

That was, at least, an agreeable idea to believe myself related to such beautiful creatures. Grandfather wanted me to think so, and to convince himself that it was true, especially since he never knew who my father was.

This secret was buried in the grave with my mother.

As much different as I was from other children, Grandfather could not reject me and my mother like my uncle Ebor did. As long as he was alive, he embodied a barrier between us and my uncle's anger.

As long as he was alive.

So from this black dawn, I came into Middle-Earth. I was a bastard, and didn't know much about my origins.

My name is Dwia.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to the band "Travis".

**_Genre_** : Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Note**_ : Another chapter in order to truly begin the story of Dwia. Read and review, please :)

* * *

**Chapter 2 : Flowers in the window **

- " And the Dragon, Smaug the Terrible, made his home into the Mountain, forcing the surviving dwarves to leave Erebor, wandering endlessly through the Wild" said Leann, finishing the story.

It was bedtime and Dwia was staring at her mother, green eyes full of wonder, a childish "o" painted on her lips.

She loved the story of Erebor, it was her favorite. The wealth of the dwarves and their civilization, the wonders of the Lonely Moutain, the bright Arkenstone, the brave Kings of the line of Durin. She was always sad when the story ended with the downfall of the kingdom, after the attack of the dragon.

- "But why did the dragon come, Mama?" asked Dwia.

- "Smaug was drawn by the wealth of Erebor. The dwarves had unearthed so many riches, silver, gold and many jewels. Dragons are known for their greed." answered her mother, stroking her daughter's dark blond hair slowly. "As are dwarves ..." she added quietly.

- "Dwarves are greedy?" asked Dwia

- "Yes, King Thror was sick with the dwarf illness for riches. Some said the coming of the dragon was a punishment for the greed of the line of Durin."

- "But it was their home!" rebelled Dwia, getting up on her knees on her mattress and frowning "If I had been there, I would have fought with them and we would have killed the dragon together!"

Leann smiled knowingly, moved by the compassion and enthusiasm of her 8 years old daughter.

- "I'm sure you would have, but now it's time to sleep." she said, forcing the child to lay down in her bed and tucking her under the covers.

- "When I grow up, I want to be a warrior, Mama! I'll be a knight and I will have adventures with dwarves." smiled Dwia.

Leann laughed quietly, then stared sadly at her daughter. Dwia had too much of her mother in her, this independence, this freedom of spirit, this disrespect for the rules... The child already began to understand the borders of the women's condition in Esgaroth; but it seems that she preferred, as her mother, to be oblivious of them, even if it meant to never fit in.

Dwia laid her head on her pillow as sleep finally claimed her. She muttered in a low sleepy voice: "I'll be a dwarf knight... and we would live in Erebor again..." she yawned "don't need the Elves..."

As her daughter fell asleep, Leann readjusted the child's hair, hiding these slightly round and longer ears that characterized her face.

She had to keep the secret of her legacy as long as possible. Too many scandals had already been triggered by her behavior. Both their reputations were at stake.

She would do her best for her daughter's future and happiness.

Dwia was walking in the paved street of Esgaroth, delivering a message from her Grandfather to a relation of his.

Their neighbor, an old crumpled woman with knowing eyes, smiled at her from behind her yellow flowers at her window. The smile was sympathetic for she had heard the shouts coming from Dwia's house last evening.

Dwia's shoes were still damp from the walk in the forest she made yesterday, and her arm still bruised from the scowling her uncle gave her.

-"Young girls do not wander in the forest alone to return all muddy !" he had yelled holding her right arm painfully "I try to make this bloody city forget your mothers' mistakes, and I try to turn you into something that might look like a proper young lady, and this is how you thank me ?!"

- "I don't want to be a lady!" Dwia had screamed in return "I don't care!"

- "Well, if you don't want to be a lady, you can either be a maid or a whore!" he answered "It's up to you, but don't expect to be a part of this family if you choose either of these paths!" he spat at her.

Her mother had then arrived and ended the argument, sending Dwia to her bedroom for the rest of the evening. The yelling had continued much further in the night after that. Always the same fights between Leann and Ebor about family, reputation, and Dwia's future.

- "No man will want to marry her if she keeps on behaving like that!" Ebor said to his sister "not even the butcher's son. And I'll never agree to such a misalliance".

- "She's just 12 years old, Ebor! Still a child" retorted Leann. "You cannot possibly think already of marrying her!"

- "In 2 or 3 years' time, she will be of age, and it will be her duty to repair your mistakes and make the family proud! She's not going to be as useless as you!"

Dwia had then heard her mother leaving, banging the door behind her.

The next morning, Dwia silently slipped out of her bedroom and went downstairs to nick a piece of bread before heading out. Being outside this house was always the best option.

Inside, she just felt trapped, as if her entire future had been already decided for her and she did not have a say in it.

She started to open the kitchen door, being careful to make as less noise as possible, when she heard an old weary voice behind her:

- "And just where do you think you're off to, young lady?" her Grandfather asked, smiling faintly.

Dwia sighed, closed the door and turned to face him.

He sat in the shadows, sipping quietly a steaming cup of tea, clasped between his crumpled hands. She should have remembered he was an early riser and never slept much anyway, nowadays.

- "Come and sit next to me" he said, offering her the chair on his right.

She complied and sat, eyes still bent on her lap.

- "You want to return to the forest to explore don't you ?" he said after a moment of silence "or play with that baker's boy once more."

He was serious but did not sound angry. Dwia didn't answer and flushed a bit.

She knew her Grandfather, as everyone, disapproved her conduct, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to go out, to explore, to play swords and learn how to fight.

Tears filled her eyes. She was feeling so misplaced, so different.

She was pained from the rejection, but could not make herself to behave differently.

- "What does it matter anyway?" she finally said, raising her head to look defiantly into the old man's eyes. "He hates me. Ever have, ever will. So why can't I do as I please?"

- "Ebor does not hate you." her father answered her with a pained expression "He just doesn't understand you, like he never understood your mother as well." He paused and then said, eyes looking through the kitchen window "Women of my family are of a peculiar kind. Untamed and independent. I do not know whether to consider it a curse or a blessing. It just is. That never stopped me from loving them" he finished, looking at her pointedly.

Dwia's green eyes widened slightly at this statement, and she started to smile.

- "You have to understand that your uncle does what he thinks is best for you, even if some of his words are harsh. He feels he failed to protect your mother, and never forgave her for leaving us. I fear that you're paying for her mistakes in a way..." he continued, in a sad voice. "But you have to start behaving less like a child, and more like a young woman."

- "I don't want to be a lady." Dwia retorted bitterly, but she looked up and saw his weary eyes and added "But for you and Mama, I will try".

He smiled and kissed her on the top of her hair, as he got up.

- "Would you go and buy some flour at the market?" he asked "We're out of it".

She smiled widely and took the few coins he was handing her.

He winked at her and said: "A small errand, not quite an adventure, but I hope it will satisfy you for today".

She took her brown cape, threw it on her shoulders and rushed outside.

- "Do not linger!" he called after her.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to the band Hoobastank

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_: OC/Thorin

_**Notes : **_a huge thanks to my two reviewers and to all that follow or favs this story ! Please keep reviewing, it's just makes my day brighter :)

And thanks to _Paddy and Moony's Angel_ : no more -" in this chapter ;)

I went to see DoS on Saturday and loved it ! And the funniest thing happened after the movie : I went into a store in front of the theater and the saleswoman asked me if I had been to see the Hobbit. I said yes and she told me she was a big Tolkien fan and showed me the lines in Mordor of the One Ring tattooed on her arm ! I love these encounters ! It's so great to be a fan ! :)

Ok, on with the story now.

* * *

**Chapter 3 : The reason **

The summer breeze was caressing her cheek as it came through the window. She was looking below as the town awoke, neighbors opening their doors and windows, children running on the streets, merchants pulling their carts.

"Dwia? Are you up there?" she heard her mother call from downstairs.

"Yes, Mama." she said, opening her bedroom door to answer.

"It's time to go to the market. You know we have to get there early if we want to have fresher goods. Put your shoes on and come down".

Dwia put her shoes on and, on her way out, stopped in front of her mirror, the one chipped at the bottom that lay in the corner of her bedroom.

She was 14 now, and becoming more womanly with each day.

Her green eyes were deep, and would often get her compliments.

Her lips were full and rosy. She had high cheekbones, that made her smile sweet and attractive.

Her body had changed as well, becoming slightly curvier, though she was still a bit small for her age.

There was one thing Dwia hated about her appearance. It was her ears. They were slightly bigger and rounder than average.

She kept her long blond hair untied at all times to cover them. Which unfortunately resulted in a matted hair mess at the end of the day, as she was always out and exploring.

She got down the stairs and followed her mother out of the house.

On their way to the market, they met Bran, the baker's son.

"Hi Dwia. Want to improve your poor swordplay again? " he said with a challenging smile.

"You know I'm hopeless with a sword." she answered pouting "I'm better at the bow if you want to launch a contest … I'm going to the market now. See you this afternoon"

"I can't wait…" he told her, winking.

Her childhood friend, Bran, had developed a fondness for flirting these past months, and she was a bit uncomfortable with it. But he was her best friend since childhood, so she hoped it would pass.

For years, she had wanted to be a boy like him.

Everything would have been much simpler.

"I don't think you should spend so much time with him in the future, Dwia." he mother told her gravely, as they strolled down the street.

"Why ?" she said defiantly. "He's my best friend"

"You're becoming a young lady and you have to take more care …" Leann hesitated "To take care that playing like children does not lead to … playing together..." she emphasized the last two words. "We all want you to be happy and for you to find a good husband".

"No respectable man would have me because I'm a bastard anyway" Dwia replied angrily at her mother.

They stopped at the corner of two streets, and Leann took her daughter's hands gently in hers.

She looked sad, and kissed Dwia's hand gently.

"I don't want you to make the same mistakes I made" she said quietly.

"Don't say that, Mama" said Dwia, bringing their joined hands to her chest "I'm proud to be your daughter. I'm not interested in making a good marriage. I just want to be free, like you".

Leann caressed her daughter's hair and pressed her smaller form in her arms.

She whispered quietly: "But will that make you happy? "

"Don't worry Mama. I will find my way" Dwia smiled tenderly at her. Leann sighed.

They got back on their path towards the market, hand in hand.

At their usual vegetable store, Dwia made an encounter she did not expect.

She was choosing some potatoes and handing them to the seller, when she heard a gruffly voice ordering some ale at the tavern behind the store.

Dwia paid her potatoes and stepped aside to see to whom that deep voice belonged.

In front of the tavern, a mug of ale in hand, were two heavily armed dwarfs. They each carried axes on their backs, and one of them bore a short sword with a silver carved handle.

Their hairs were long on their shoulders, braided, even inside their long beards.

To her, the two dwarfs looked like old warriors stopping to rest, while headed on a mysterious and adventurous journey.

Their hands, breasts, shoulders and legs were strong and broad, and one of them was slightly taller than her.

But what struck her the most were their ears: slightly round and bigger then men's ears.

She unconsciously reached a hand up to touch her left ear, her face frozen in surprise.

Leann came in search of her and caught her daughter watching the dwarfs with a completely amazed expression on her face. She took Dwia's hand firmly and brought her back at home at a quick pace, her heart racing.

It was the first time Dwia saw dwarfs.

And it would change her life forever.

* * *

Both women were silent all the way home. Leann was stressed and worried. Dwia was still in shock, her face frowning as pieces of a strange puzzle began to assemble in her head.

Leann dropped their purchases from the market, climbed up the stairs still dragging her daughter by the arm and locked them up in her bedroom.

Dwia was still baffled, and even rather angry by now. She broke free of her mother's grasp and faced her.

"They were dwarfs." she stated.

"Yes." answered Leann quietly "and you must not, under any circumstances be seen near them!" she added, her rising voice slightly threatening.

"But why?" frowned Dwia.

"We've tried for years to make people forget about my mistakes, about your origins..." Leann stammered, almost hysterically. "Now is not the time to waste all this work. Your future is at stake."

Dwia took a step back, and her shoulders touched the cold wall behind. She shivered and whispered:

"My father is a dwarf." It was not a question.

Tears and fear filled Leann's eyes as she breathed :

"Yes."

Dwia sat down slowly on the floor, her legs sliding in front of her.

She had a father. A real father.

Still no name, but she had at least a small clue about his identity.

Her mother had never wanted to tell her anything about her father, except that they had loved each other very much, but couldn't stay together. Dwia had tried and tried to obtain more information but Leann was mute on the subject. She said it was for Dwia's own good, that it was better that she knew nothing, that nobody knew.

Leann sat next to her daughter on the floor and took one of her hands in hers. She was trembling.

Dwia turned to face her mother.

"Why are you crying, Mama ?" she asked, reaching to stroke her cheek "I'm so happy to know something about my father at last."

"I don't want you to become an outcast..." whispered Leann "like me".

Dwia's smile faded and she pressed her face into her mother's neck, at a loss for words.

* * *

Growing up, she began to understand the consequences of her mother's actions, and the difficulty of being a single mother. The fear of constant judgment was a daily strain.

As she became a woman, Dwia understood better now. When she was a child, she had come back home twice in tears to her mother, after some other children called her names.

She had acquired the knowledge of the word "bastard" harshly. As a child, she had been angry at her mother for not telling her about her father, for letting her in the dark, for not staying with him, thus depriving her at of the chance to be a part of a united family.

But as the years passed and she grew up, she couldn't stay angry with her mother any longer. Leann seemed to have loved her father so much that, on some days, Dwia had the feeling that her mother would be forever heartbroken.

Her mother loved her so much, encouraged her in everything, took care of her so well.

Dwia dreaded a world without her.

A painful ache appeared in her chest, as she realized her mother would not always be there, that one day she would be gone, as the laws of life dictated everyone's existence.

And Dwia was afraid to be alone, to have no one to love her, to accept her for what she was.

She was a bastard, and a half blood.

One afternoon, as they were cooking together in the family kitchen, Dwia asked her mother in a cautious voice:

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what, dear?" Leann answered, raising an eyebrow.

"Having me... alone... to complicate your life"

Leann opened her arms to her child and smiled. Dwia cowered in her arms and inhaled her sweet unique scent. She felt so safe there.

"Never" Leann told her "I always had one reason to be happy, to carry on. And the reason is you".

That night, Leann stayed in the room until Dwia fell asleep.

On many nights, Dwia's dreams were full of bearded faces and braided hairs, as she imagined endlessly the possibility that one of the dwarfs from the market could have been her father.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to the amazing Neil Young.

**_Genre_** : Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Note**_ : Thank you to all that fav or follow this story, and to my great reviewers. Please keep on reviewing, I like to know what you think :)

In this chapter, there's a quote I took from Gandalf in "Return of the King"... I'm sure you can find it ;)

* * *

**Chapter 4 : Heart of gold**

After the first encounter with dwarves at the market, Leann insisted that Dwia's father identity should absolutely be kept a secret. The two women were the only ones to know the truth.

Mixed couples between different races of Middle Earth were generally disapproved and frowned upon. That was the main reason why they were so rare.

And children born from these unions were rejected. Some extremists even proclaimed they were unnatural and evil.

So Dwia kept a low profile on the matter, even if she was not ashamed of her parentage. She was just cautious and kept her ears hidden beneath her long locks of hair at all times. She felt a bit paranoid some times, as she took the habit to often notice how people were looking at her or talking about her.

As the days passed and Dwia grew up towards adulthood, she realized it would not be possible for her to stay in Esgaroth all her life. With the passing of each season, she felt more and more misplaced.

Leann and her Grandfather tried to reason with Ebor. They wanted to convince him to let Dwia enjoy her teenage years a bit longer, before starting to try to get her married. Her uncle was not keen on the idea. He wanted Dwia out of the house as soon as possible, and hopefully, the mother would follow her daughter.

In the meantime, Dwia was spending more time with Bran, mostly at the smithy where he had started his apprenticeship. She was fascinated by the forge and the work on different metals. Bran let her practice with some of the tools when his master was not around.

* * *

One morning, Bran was working on a piece of iron to mend a cauldron, his brown hair falling on his face and his hazel eyes glittering with the light of the fire As usual, Dwia was watching, standing nearby.

It was summer and the weather was very hot. They were both sweating under the heat of the fire.

"I hope I will get to work on armors, swords and shields one day" said Bran between two strikes.

Dwia smiled.

"Aye. It would be amazing to be able to make a full armor... for a knight maybe" Dwia said, her gaze lost in the red fire.

"My shieldmaiden! » teased Bran, curtseying mockingly.

She smirked at him.

"Dwarfs are the best at this" he added, resuming his work.

Then, he looked behind his shoulder to check they were indeed alone, and whispered: "To have a dwarf master would be amazing."

"I agree. But they keep their craft very secret, and would never teach a human" she remarked.

Bran nodded and let down his tools to reach for water.

Dwia had anticipated it and reached for the jug at the same time. Their hands touched, his larger one hot with the fire against her smaller colder one.

They looked into each other's eyes for a second. Then, Bran seized her hand gently and raised it to his cheek.

"You're burning" she said feeling his hot skin prickling her fingers.

He smiled, put her fingers to his lips and kissed them. The gesture was very soft and intimate.

Dwia was so surprised she didn't move. The feeling was agreeable, but she felt really uncomfortable with the gesture. She didn't know why.

She just felt she did not want Bran to behave this way towards her.

She was paralyzed as she watched her friend's face coming closer, bending towards her own.

They jumped at the same time at the violent sound of a hammer falling into the fire.

"Ühyùbîr* !" (*Attention!) cried Dwia as Bran hurried to remove it.

Once he had done it, he faced her once more, a baffled expression on his face:

"What did you say?"

Dwia was speechless, stepped back, grumbled a "see you later" and ran as far as she could in the street.

* * *

Her heart was racing as fast as her feet.

Strange words and strange faces had been plaguing her dreams for a few weeks now.

She had often this vision of a sort of village composed of cave-like dwellings, inhabited by a community of dwarves. She didn't know if it was real or true, or if it was the way her mind imagined the life of dwarves.

In the dream, she was one of them, and spoke fluent Khuzdul, the dwarf secret language.

But how could she have learnt it? She had never heard one word of it.

And now, these strange harsh and foreign words had come out naturally from her mouth.

Dwia was lost, afraid but fascinated at the same time, as she searched for answers in these dreams, these visions.

She kept her fears to herself and withdrew into her mind.

One thing was certain: she would never find the answers to her questions by staying in Esgaroth.

As she slowed her pace, she thought about what had just happened: Bran had wanted to kiss her ! He had kissed her hand and would have done more had they not been interrupted.

It felt wrong, unnatural. He was her best friend, and even if the attention was pleasing, she could not let him think that she returned his affections.

It would be wrong to let him believe they could have a future together.

He deserved a good wife, a human wife, and a simple and happy life.

When she reached her house, she was out of breath. She found her mother and uncle talking quietly and seriously at the kitchen table.

Leann had been crying, dry tracks digging the faint lines on her face.

"Dwia..." she said in tired voice "Come here, dear."

"What happened? Are you feeling unwell, Mama?"

"Your grandfather's ill. The doctor is with him now."

* * *

It took a month for her Grandfather to fade and finally die.

The slow process of his disappearance burdened the house with a veil of sadness. Dwia, her mother and uncle went to their everyday business in slow motion, punctuating their days with visits to the small bedroom upstairs.

One afternoon, Dwia took a bowl of warm broth to her Grandfather. He was awake, half-sitting on the bed, looking out the window and smiled when she entered. His skin was ghostly pale.

"My child …" he said in a frail voice "come sit next to me."

Dwia put the bowl on the nightstand and sat on the side of the bed.

"My little woman, you are not a child anymore." he stated. "You are fierce and eager to live as your mother was at your age. It saddens me that I will not be able to see you grow up, get married, and have children..."

"I don't want you to go..." she whispered, her eyes full of tears "Don't leave us alone".

"I will not say "do not weep" for not all tears are an evil" he added, his face more serious now.

She took one of his feeble hands in hers, and stayed at his side for some time, watching him resting.

Dwia was afraid of his passing, that things would change, that she would be thrown into a woman's life that she did not want, that she would have to flee so soon, so young still.

He was the closest person she had to a father. He had guided her, encouraged her, supported her in her in her fears, and soothed her in her sorrows.

That night, there was not a sound outside the house, and she could not go to sleep.

She feared the coming of death during the night, even if she knew she could not prevent it.

In the dream she had in the morning, strong arms were holding her while she wept, comforting her, repeating like a lullaby:

"I'm here. I won't let go, Nathith*" said the voice. (*daughter)

When she woke up, her mother's arms were around her, and she was trembling.

He had passed quietly during the night, leaving the two women more alone than ever.

* * *

"You're even smaller than a dwarf, big ears!" a boy from the market yelled at her, nastily.

Dwia felt her face flushing with embarrassment and fled the store she was standing close to. She was not one for confrontation; she only felt shame and fear at being insulted in such a way.

She was so scared her secret would be revealed one day, and that she would be rejected by everyone, laughed at, perhaps even hated …

She walked very quickly to her house, clutching her basket fiercely, tears of shame running down her cheeks.

"What happened?" her mother asked her, seeing her daughter distressed.

"I don't fit anywhere. I'm a freak! "Dwia yelled, throwing the basket across the kitchen, smashing a glass in the process as well as her hand.

Leann guessed she had been receiving insults again from that awful boy at the market.

Dwia rushed the stairs up to her room, banged and locked the door behind her.

Leann knew she needed sometime to settle down, her daughter's temper being easily set on fire.

In her room, Dwia was still crying, while the same worries assaulted her again: _Why am I smaller than the others young women of my age? I want to grow up. Does it mean that I have the life of a dwarf? But I will then live perhaps two hundred years old! Everyone I know will be dead … like Grandfather …"_

Her breathing started to quicken with the fear of being left alone, being left behind...

She would have to leave, to hide her difference, maybe find her other kin... but would they accept her?

It always came back to the same questions and worries.

Her hand was hurting with the cut from the glass, the red blood outstripping her closed fist.

She opened her left palm and stared at the large cut marring her white skin. A strange instinct seized her and she extended her right hand over her left palm.

The fingers of her right hand started to glitter and tingle. All her right hand was soon turning yellowish, causing both hands to feel a slight burn. Then, the yellow faded and when she looked at her cut again, it was gone.

Her left palm was cured and white, just as before.

She stared at her hands, astonished at what had happened and quickly put them behind her back. Leann knocked at the door at the same time.

She took a deep breath and got up to open the door.

"Did you tame the lion?" her mother asked teasing but her tone sweet, as she sat on the bed next to Dwia.

"Yes, I... I'm fine" she stammered.

"Let me see that poor hand" Leann said taking Dwia's left hand in hers.

"I didn't cut myself" Dwia said very quickly, retrieving her hand and putting it in her pocket "I thought I did, but I didn't".

Leann smiled and stroked her daughter's long hair.

"Don't pay attention to the comments of others. You are beautiful and unique, and I will not let you think otherwise."

There was a short silence, and Dwia said nervously:

"At least, I don't have a beard."

They both chuckled at that.

* * *

Dwia kept to herself the secret of the yellow gift. She was proud to have this ability to heal herself so easily. She felt like she was special, but in a good way this time, in a magical way.

What she feared was that if others were to hear of her gift, they would try to use it for their own purposes.

So, it was her secret.

The days went on, and her uncle began to talk again of marrying her soon.  
As pain of his father's death fade, Ebor began to focus again on his business and his task as head of the family.

He had married three years previous, and his wife was expecting their first child. They all lived in the same house now, and it was a bit crowed. Leann and her daughter now shared the same room, Dwia's bedroom being transformed into a nursery.

Dwia felt like she was suffocating in this house. Not a day passed without a remark on her appearance ("You should comb your hair, it looks like a bird nest") or her future ("You're getting too old to be unmarried still."). She fled the house whenever she could, to seek refuge and calm in the forest or on the banks of the lake, often with a book or a bow.

She was useless with a sword. Bran had tried to teach her but she could not attack properly, only dodge the strikes. She preferred the bow and had improved her aim greatly.

One late afternoon, she was sitting with Bran on the southern bank of the lake. The sun was low on the hills and the air almost chilly from the coming night.

They had never talked of their "almost kiss", but she supposed he was still attracted to her.

He was her best friend and she did not want to lose him, so she was avoiding the subject at all costs.

"I managed to get all the arrows on the same branch this morning." Dwia said proudly, giving him back her bow. Bran kept it in his house, pretending it was his, because she was not allowed to handle "_men's weapons_".

"You're getting better and better." he said smiling.

"I want to be able to defend myself…when I will need to" she said, staring at the water waving under the soft wind. "I don't want to feel helpless or depend on others when I will be on my own".

"You'll never be on your own." he said fiercely "I'll be at your side".

Dwia smiled at him and told him sadly:

"There will be a time where you won't". She got up, smoothed the side of her skirt, and looked at him seriously "You know I'm different. Everybody keeps throwing it at my face."

"To me, you aren't. You're just …you" he said, getting up also. Bran didn't know anything about her secrets, her legacy, her father... He was someone she would always love as a friend, someone loyal, at her side even in difficult times.

"You're sweet" she said, withdrawing from him, sensing the awkward conversation coming.

He extended his hand toward her face, but the bank being slippery he fell on his side, scratching his leg.

"Bran! Are you hurt?" she reached for him, helping him stand.

"It's just a scratch" he said looking at his leg.

Instinctively, she raised her right hand forward to his leg and waited. Nothing happened.

There was a moment of silence, then he asked her, a curious and amused look on his face:

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." she said, her face blank. She stepped away from him, not daring to cross his eyes and added "Come on, it's getting late".

Her gift had not worked on Bran.

Another question without answer.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer:**_I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to "Radiohead".

_**Genre**_: Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: Thanks to all that fav or follow this story ! Please, please leave a review ! It helps me with the story ! :)

With last chapter, you know a bit more about the main character. I didn't want her to be a great warrior, or amazingly beautiful, but she has this little "je ne sais quoi" that I like. Dwia will remain a simple character through the story. I hope that it makes her both likeable and realistic.

Another short chapter, and then, we will have more "dwarf material" !

* * *

**Chapter 5 : Creep**

As she realized this healing gift of hers wasn't working on other people, Dwia felt assaulted by more and more questions.

She started to experiment.

She would intentionally cut or scratch herself on her legs or arms to test the limits of this healing capability. Nothing serious, of course. It would work every time. The wound would glow yellow under her hand, burn slightly then heal, letting the skin completely untouched, as it was before.

She wondered then if it would work if she broke an arm or a leg, or with a disease, like a cold.

But she didn't dare try to break one of her limbs just for the sake of experiment. She would have to try on someone else, if such an opportunity presented itself.

Dwia kept her gift a secret. It was something of her own, that defined her.

And she was proud of it.

Long walks in the forest when she returned full of scratches and with bloody knees were not an issue anymore. She would heal herself before coming home, and no one would know where she had been.

In the smithy as well, she was not afraid to burn herself anymore: she grew bold and learned lots with Bran on different metals, their toughness, their melting characteristics, their various uses...

* * *

At 17 years old, the young woman was more aware of people's looks.

Despite her small height, slightly broad stature and larger ears which stayed concealed at all times, she did not felt too ugly, just different.

In fact, she was quite charming with her stunning green eyes and soft smile. Her body was not frail, her shoulders straight, her breasts full, but her waist still thin, which gave her an air of general grace. But even if she did not hate her body and face, she still felt different, like she could not be attractive to men.

She kept her hair very long and never braided it, mainly because of the ears problem, but also because braids were the trademark of dwarves.

She didn't want to attract attention to herself and on her unknown parentage. It was her and her mother's secret to keep.

She was afraid of the insults and the shame she would bring on her family if people discovered she was a half breed.

Her dreams were still filled with unknown faces and conversations in Khuzdul. She was beginning to get familiar with the throaty dwarf language, and to instinctively understand the meaning of some words.

One night, she dreamt of a beautiful city, at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. Its streets were bathed in sunlight, children running and playing, the music of the water fountains, woman and dwarf women sitting on the marble side of the ponds talking joyfully, and bright creamy buildings whose architecture mixed all kind of influences…

She was walking on the pavement slowly, marveling at the activity, the prosperity of this city. The smells of spices and roasting meat reached her as she arrived at some market.

A family was sharing a huge lemon pie on a stone bench, the children smiling reveling in the icing.

On one side of the market, there was a tavern with tables and benches outside: armed dwarves and men were having a drinking contest. Their laughter was loud and contagious.

A dwarf couple stopped near Dwia to buy some vegetables at a store. They were holding hands. When they finished their purchase, the dwarf slipped his hand around his wife's waist and turning her around, he kissed her.

The kiss was quick, but passionate, claiming, almost possessive. It made the wife giggle.

It was as if he had just come back from a long war and was kissing her for the first time since returning. He held her tight in his arms for a second, her feet almost off the floor.

Dwia stared and was envious.

She wanted that. She wanted to love and be loved.

But who would love her? A freak, that's what she called herself when she was moody or sad.

More than ever, she was feeling the shadow of being an outcast weighing on her.

The dream faded and she woke up with a start, tears sliding on her pale cheeks, her heart tight in her chest, anxious.

Leann was combing her hair, but reached her side when she heard her daughter crying in the bed.

"What's wrong, dearest?"

"I had a dream..." Dwia answered, standing up in her bed, a hand rubbing her hot forehead "There was city, full of life, in the shadow of the Mountain...with happy people everywhere... dwarves and men ... they seemed so happy, so prosper … like they belonged there, together …" her voice cracking.

She then took a deep breath, and spread the tears on her cheek with the back of her hand, almost angrily.

Leann hugged her daughter against her chest. She could almost feel her despair and sadness. She didn't understand those dreams about dwarves Dwia was having. The knowledge of her parentage must have affected her more than she would had thought at first.

Perhaps these dreams meant something. But what? To whom ask these questions, while keeping Dwia's father identity a secret? Leann had no one to turn to for answers.

She could only comfort her daughter, reassure her and try to explain things simply:

"You must have dreamt of the city of Dale. A beautiful city near the glorious kingdom of Erebor. It was destroyed almost a century ago, by the Dragon." Leann told her gently.

"Yes, I know my people's history. I remember my childhood's books" Dwia said irritably "but why? Why do I have these dreams? I don't think all young dwarf girls have these dreams! It makes me so sad, and angry at the same time."

"I don't know dearest...you always had a great imagination." Leann answered, smiling faintly "And all those books you read on dwarves must influence you in some way, I think. Perhaps you should let it go."

"My dreams aren't normal!" spat Dwia frowning, getting up and going to the window "I just can't let go off my legacy, my parentage. You won't even tell me father's name!"

Leann got up also and tried to catch her daughter's arm, but she drew back towards the window frame.

"I can't" said Leann, firmly "Who knows what you'll do if you knew. You're still a child, so impulsive."

Dwia gave her mother a death glare and left the bedroom.

* * *

It was barely dawn when she found herself in the still quiet streets of the city. Instinctively, she went to Bran's house and caught him as he was leaving his house.

"Hey Dwia." he said, smiling.

"Hi" she answered in a low voice.

"I know this voice and this face. You're upset about something." He stated.

"I had a fight with my mother, that's all" she said, looking at her feet. "Come, I'll walk you to the smithy" she added, no wanting him to explain herself any further.

Dwia stayed at the smithy all morning watching Bran work and occasionally helping him.

She missed her grandfather. The old man hadn't known anything about her father and had always tried to comfort in every situation. The rebellious teenager just needed someone to take her side, from time to time.

She was watching the fire, lost in her thoughts, her body numb with the noise and heat of the smithy. Entranced, she didn't hear Bran leaving to get tools from the other room.

Her eyes were unfocused and blurry, when she heard the rough voice.

A large figure had just stepped into the workshop, clouding the sunlight creeping through the door.

"Is there anyone in 'here?" a rough male voice said.

He stepped towards her. Dwia's eyes cleared, her breathing stopping as she saw him for the first time.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to "Aerosmith".

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_ : Thank you for the awesome reviews and to all that fav or follow this story ! Please keep reviewing ! It keeps me motivated !

Here's a long (and important) chapter where the identity of the mysterious "him" is revealed ! ;)

* * *

**Chapter 6 : I don't want to miss a thing  
**

The dwarf standing in front of her was tall (for a dwarf) and broad, with very large and square shoulders.

His head was bold, his skull covered with geometric black tattoos that looked like runes. He was wearing worn leather clothes and carrying many weapons: two daggers strapped on each sides of his knees, a large sword at his belt and a large axe on his back, alongside a big traveling bag.

He was staring at her in such a way that she felt completely exposed, like he was trying to figure her out.

Paranoia kicked in: this dwarf knew she had something to hide, she was sure of it.

His long black beard and his eyebrows knitted together, he was very impressive.

Dwia was glued to her chair, her mouth slightly open, her hands gripping the wood underneath her butt.

The dwarf examined her for a second. He seemed to be disturbed by something.

Then he asked her, pointing at the axe on his back:

"D'you know if I could get this fixed here, lass?"

Dwia's heart was beating fast. It was the first time of her life a dwarf was talking to her. She had this feeling the moment was very important.

Pulling herself together, she answered quickly without thinking, her eyes still fixed on him:

"Aye, Khuzd Guchir* " (" *master dwarf")

As soon as he heard her speak the secret dwarf language, his expression turned into one of upmost surprise, slightly mingled with suspicion. Dwia put her hands on her mouth, horrified at her blunder.

"How do you...?" he started to say, in a low voice.

"Don't say a thing, please!" she stepped immediately forward, cursing herself for being so foolish. She put her small hand on his forearm. Her eyes were pleading.

They both could hear Bran coming back now, and the door of the backroom opening.

"Please, I beg you" she repeated again, whispering, before retreating back to her chair.

The dwarf opened his mouth to reply, his eyes still fixed on her, but closed it when Bran addressed him.

"Hello Sir, what can I do for you?"

The dwarf remained mute for one more second, but finally managed to tear his eyes from Dwia, and answered Bran.

"Aye boy, could you get this fixed for me?" He asked, reaching behind his back to show a spot on his axe where the binding between the wood and the joint holding the blade was damaged.

"Sure." said Bran "I will need to collect some tools from the backroom first. Dwia, could you take care of the shop? I' ll be back in a couple of minutes."

She nodded, and Bran left them once again.

* * *

As soon as the door was closed, the dwarf turned to her and began scrutinizing all her features, trying to dig up her secret just by looking at her.

Dwia could have been embarrassed to be thus examined, but she was as interested in the dwarf as he was in her. Her heart was beating hard through her chest, and she felt thrilled at finally meeting, talking to someone from her father's race.

It was as if a door had started to open, she could almost hear the "click" of the key turning in this moment.

After a few seconds of silence, the dwarf was about to speak and ask of her some kind of explanation, but she surprised him by stepping in front of him and addressing him with a smile. Now was not the time to be shy, Dwia had decided. She was not going to miss this opportunity.

"Thank you for keeping quiet" she told him, her eyes sincere. "Nobody one around here knows about it... I mean my abilities..."

Dwia started twisting her fingers together in embarrassment.

"I don't understand. Where did you learn the secret language?" he told her, his face baffled. "No offense lass, but you don't exactly look like a dwarf… are you?" he added more quietly.

"Not exactly." she said, now whispering to him and stepping closer. "My father was a dwarf, but I don't know who he is."

She didn't know why she was telling him all this. She must be out of her mind.

But it felt so right. She was so relieved to be able to tell someone, as if he could understand her fears, hopes, doubts and most of all, her loneliness.

"What do you mean "you don't know", lass?" he asked, starting to whisper like her in his gruffly voice.

The both of them really looked like a couple of spies, whispering close and looking often behind their backs, in case someone was listening.

"My mother won't tell me. She told me my father was a dwarf, but she refuses to tell me more. She said I'll be rejected if anyone knew and that it's best that nobody knows."

Just as she finished her sentence, Dwia felt panic and fear rising in her chest.

"I shouldn't have told you. Oh my! I shouldn't have told you that! I'm going to be in so much trouble if she finds out!"

He put a comforting large hand on her small shoulder in a friendly gesture. The dwarf felt a little sorry for the young woman. She looked so scared.

"Don't worry lass, she won't hear anything from me. Dwarves are very secretive of their business. And everything you told me isn't anyone's business but ours".

He smiled to her as he let go of her shoulder.

Dwia did not feel so scared now, even a bit relieved. She felt as if she could trust him.

She didn't know how. She didn't know why. She just knew it.

He was the key to her door, the door of her future, away from Esgaroth, away from all the secrets, away from this daily lie that had become her life.

"What's your name?" he asked, discarding his bag on the floor and leaning on the wall.

"Dwia" she breathed.

"Mine's Dwalin" he said "And how did you learn Khuzdul? Did your mother teach you?"

"No, she did not. She doesn't know it. I never learnt." she answered, honestly.

"Then how...?" he began, quirking an eyebrow.

Dwia felt awkward again. She already was such a freak. What would he think of her if she told him about her weird dreams?

"It's complicated" she said, lowering her eyes.

Bran suddenly reappeared in the shop and startled them both.

"My master took some of the tools with him today." he informed Dwalin. "I would be able to fix your axe tomorrow morning. I you want, I can bring it back to you afterwards?"

"Aye, agreed boy. I'm staying at the "The Red Crown" for two nights. Take good care of it." he said, handing him the axe "I'll wait for you tomorrow then" he added. As he said this, he was not looking at Bran, but at Dwia as he took his travelling bag and shoved it on his massive shoulders.

"Why aren't you staying longer in Esgaroth, Sir?" asked Bran. "The roads are very muddy with last week's rains."

"No. I can't stay more than two nights" he answered.

"It's complicated" the dwarf added, almost whispering, with a last pointed look at Dwia, and left.

* * *

Dwia was left completely stunned by this encounter. She wanted to run and follow him, talk to him, ask him so many questions...

But she couldn't. It would not be proper. Everybody would notice her queer behavior.

Bran stepped near her and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, are you with us?" he asked, smiling. "You seem lost in your thoughts."

She was roused by his voice and slowly stepped away from him.

"I have to go home. My mother will be worried if I don't return soon" she said quickly. "See you later, Bran" she added with a smile and fled the shop.

She wouldn't stay at home. She needed time to think. She just crept through the kitchen's back door and retrieved her bow.

Some hours in the forest hunting would clear her head. She walked for four hours amongst the trees, watching animals, stopping by a stream to freshen her face and neck.

Dwia returned home before night, a slim hare in her right hand, her bow in the other. The hunt had cleared her mind.

Her boot knife and buckle iron belt were shimmering under the dusk light.

After supper, she went to her bedroom, but she would find no sleep that night.

It was as if her fate was escaping her once more. Dwalin the dwarf would be gone the day after the next. The door would close and there would be no key to open it once more.

This house felt like a cage where she would grow old, wife or spinster, behind bars that she would eventually come to accept. She feared to die as a stranger to herself, to never discover who she really was, who she really could be.

After hours of stressful thinking, it was very early in the morning when she finally decided she would go to him. It was completely crazy, but she needed to do it, even if he threw her out.

Dwia crept silently outside the house, her shoes in one hand. Already the first lights of dawn were showing. She had to hurry, to remain unnoticed.

On the threshold, she put her shoes on and began to run down the streets towards The Red Crow inn.

She didn't care anymore what was proper and what was not.

It was the chance of a lifetime. There was this dwarf. He knew her secret. She trusted him. She would probably never have such an opportunity again.

At the inn, everything was silent. The innkeeper was still asleep, as were the customers. Dwia climbed on the lower roof of the stables and looked inside the first window.

A old man was sleeping in a canopy bed, his left arm dangling from the mattress.

Through the second window, a couple was more agreeably engaged. Dwia lowered her head quickly beneath the window frame, her cheeks flushing at the small pleasure sounds the woman was making.

She crawled underneath the third window like a cat. Fain candle light was pouring through it, and fear grasped her when she heard the window opening.

"I should have known..." said a low but amused voice. "Come inside, lass. It would be the death of me if anyone found you there" Dwalin said, extending a strong tattooed arm towards her.

She was still breathing heavily when she took his hand and he lifted her through the open window. He was already fully dressed, only his heavy coat remained on the back of a chair.

He sat on the side on the bed and motioned for her to take the chair next to the small table.

Dwia sat, before anxiously asking:

"I hope I did not wake you? I'm sorry for bursting in .."

"Nah. I'm an early riser" he cut, staring at his broad hands on his lap "Old habits die hard, you know. Living on the road. Not settling anywhere for long..." His voice had a slightly tired and sad edge as he said this.

He turned back to her, and his features softened.

"But I'd like to hear more about you."

"Me too!" she said quickly, her enthusiasm making him smile.

Dwalin laughed. It made his face look younger, his eyes coming to life.

"Well, what do you want to know, lass?"

"Everything." she confessed her eyes eager.

They talked for hours like friends, of their lives, of Dwalin's travels, of Dwia's hopes, of the different settlements of dwarves in Middle Earth, of the fate of Erebor.

Dwia told him about her dreams and was relieved when he said shrugging: "Stranger things have happened. The mind is a web of memories, some true, some invented".

Stopping in Esgaroth, Dwalin was on his way back to the Blue Mountains, Ered Luin. He would join his brother on the road. He had come to the eastern part of Middle-Earth to visit the dwarves that lived in the Iron hills. After, he had travelled by boat to Esgaroth: on his way, he had gathered information about how things were in the area, and found out that the Dragon had not been seen for thirty years now.

Dwalin was intrigued by Dwia, this young lass, half dwarf, half girl, who knew very little of her origins, and was so eager to learn and meet people from her father's race. He could feel that she was yearning to know who her father was. And the main feeling he got was that she wanted to escape her current life, so baldy.

It was a very happy encounter for Dwalin. He often felt lonely on the road, being a rough but lively kind of dwarf. He had felt how lonely she was too, and if there is one true thing about dwarves, it's that they stick together.

Dwia left him in the morning, both taking great care that she would leave unnoticed.

But she came back at the inn on the second night. And they talked some more.

As the sun was rising on the last morning, casting a pale light inside the room, they got up and looked through the window, standing side by side. They could discern the misty shape of the Lonely Mountain.

Dwalin sighed and confessed in a heavy voice: "This is home. I know we'll come back one day, and I want to be a part of it".

The innkeeper disturbed them from their emotional moment, knocking on the bedroom door and shouting something about breakfast.

"I should go" said Dwia.

"Aye." he nodded.

They looked at each other and smiled. During those two days, a bond of friendship had been formed between them, through their sharing. They could both feel it.

"Thank you" she said to him simply, het green eyes alive and sad "for everything."

"It was my pleasure, lass. You made me feel less homesick somehow."

"Promise to keep my secrets" she said, taking one of his big hands in her fragile ones.

"I will" he said seriously. "Dwarves keep their business to themselves, like I told you."

"And don't forget me" she added, her voice low all of a sudden.

"I won't" he assured her. "We'll see each other again." he assured her, smiling.

"How do you know?" she asked, curious.

"I don't" he said honestly "but I would like to, so we'll make sure our paths cross again."

Dwia was comforted by his words.

She smiled at him and nodded.

Then, she crept back on the stables' roof and into the street. He stared at her retreating form as the disappeared in the pale morning light.

Winter was coming but Dwia's heart had never felt so warm.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Disclaimer_**: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs' titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to "Guns N' Roses".

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M. This chapter contains difficult scenes about death. Just a warning.

_**Pairing**_: OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: Thanks to all my great followers and reviewers ! You're the best ! Please keep on reviewing !

This chapter is not a happy one, but I had it planned since the beginning of the story.

But that does not prevent me from wishing you all a very Happy Christmas and much happiness on this day ! :)

* * *

**Chapter 7 : Knocking on heaven's door**

Dwia felt alive. She was smiling more often.

The future did not seem so blurry or glum anymore.  
Like many young people, she had this secret desire and conviction that her fate would be exciting, that her life would not be ordinary, that she was destined for greater things...

Her encounter with Dwalin was a defining moment. She didn't know if he was her friend yet. Was he?

But they shared something in common, a legacy, a hope.  
What was more important, they had understood each other.

Dwia could feel her heart fluttering with excitement every time she thought about this amazing meeting.  
There was no going back. She felt now, more than ever, that her fate and future would rest with the dwarves.

What pained her most was that she could never leave her mother behind.

She loved her so much.

As she grew up and became an adult, Dwia even had developed a need to protect her, to keep her from harm.  
These two paths could not coexist together.  
And that made Dwia miserable.

She wanted to convince her mother to leave Esgaroth, but Leann would not hear a word of it.

There had been a heated conversation recently with her mother:

"You're being foolish, Dwia. What would we do in the wild? Starve to death?"

"We could leave with a caravan of merchants and set for the Iron Hills." answered Dwia angrily "You've done it before!"

"That is not the point. I will not expose you to such danger. You know nothing of the world. Here, we are safe; we are finally accepted by the community. We have enough to eat, a roof, a family, neighbors… That's all that matters." reasoned Leann, trying to regain control of her voice and to make her daughter see reason.

Dwia felt her blood boiling. She understood her mother's reasoning but she could not accept it.  
Her eyes filled with tears and she angrily wiped them off her cheeks, the skin burning with salt.

"I won't die in a cage!" she said to her mother, through gritted teeth. "Mahal, as my witness" she added in a whisper, like an oath to herself.  
And as so many times before, she left the house, trying chase the suffocating feeling away.

Leann was trying her best to contain her daughter's will for adventure and restrain her recklessness. But the situation between them seemed to have reached a crossroads.

* * *

In the streets of the city, the air had turned chilly. Fall was there, with its first frosts and leaves scattered on the pavements.  
Dwia hold her shawl closer on her shoulders as she walked.

The days were darkening, but her heart was still light with her last memory of Dwalin: she had climbed on the hill above the banks of the river, outside the city and watched him ride away on his pony.

The sun was shining on his bald head. That had made her smile.

With this memory in mind, she went to bed happy that night, her heart full of hopes.

It was the first night that she dreamt of it.

The fall of Erebor.

It was a vision of chaos: people running everywhere in the streets.

There was no sound in her dream but it was vivid, she could imagine their screams.

Her body was transparent, like a ghost's. Dwia was walking on the streets of Dale till she came at the main door of the city.

A boy about four years old was sitting alone on the floor, in a gap between the wooden door and the stone wall, crying for his mother, tears falling on his rosy cheeks.

Dwia tried to talk to him, to soothe him, to take him in her arms and away from harm, but she couldn't. He could not see her, nor hear her.

She felt awfully helpless, as if an iron hand was gripping and squeezing her heart, forcing her to watch this painful scene.

She tore her gaze from the child and looked at the plain beneath her. The dwarves were fleeing the Lonely Mountain, trying to escape the ire and fire of the dragon.

She started to walk towards the plain.

An elderly dwarf was lying on the ground near her, clutching an awful burn on his side. A dwarf woman was crying helplessly, kneeling next to him, gripping his hands, her face distorted by sorrow.

Instinctively, Dwia reached and put her hand on the dwarf's wound. The palm turned yellow as usual, but nothing happened.

It was just a vision, a dream. She could not do anything, just watch.

The dwarf died in the woman's arms, as Dwia released her own tears and sobs.

The dream continued.

She wanted nothing more than to wake up now, from this nightmare.

There was death, anger, sorrow and pain everywhere.

The silence was heavy to bear, trapped as she was in her ghostly body.

She kept on walking through the plain, following the line of fleeing dwarves

Then something happened.

It was as if someone had turned on the sound.

She wasn't deaf anymore.

She could hear a man's voice coming from behind her.

"Run, Balin!" he yelled his voice hoarse "Get our people to safety behind the hills!"

Dwia turned and saw him for the first time.

A young dwarf, finely dressed, his boots made of fine leather, and his jacket adorned with jewels shimmering under the sun. His hair was dark as a raven's coat.

He was very tall for a dwarf, a little bit taller than her, and his body muscular and broad.

He was half-leading, half dragging an old dwarf with him that seemed to be mumbling incoherently.

The old dwarf was very richly dressed, with many gems on his clothes, his long white beard, and his crown.

Dwia recognized him immediately: Thror, King under the Mountain.

Then, she thought, the younger dwarf must be his son, Thrain. Or maybe his grandson?

She run behind them to the top of the hill, as the young dwarf reached this "Balin" he was shouting at earlier.

They all turned back to watch the sinister scene of the destroyed gates of Erebor, the city of Dale burning, the trees assaulted with flames...

Dwia turned to watch the three dwarves as they watched the destruction of their home.

The old king was seated on the floor, still mumbling, his hands frantically clutching an invisible objet. He was obviously in shock.

Balin was crying silently, as he put a hand on the younger dwarf' shoulder.

"Thorin..." he said his voice cracking.

"The elves abandoned us!" Thorin said in anger, tears running on his handsome face. "They fled to their cursed forest, land left us to die."

Staring at the young dwarf's face, Dwia noticed his deep blue eyes for the first time. They were filled with sorrow and rage. His despair broke Dwia's heart, as she understood it.

Her eyes fell back on the scene of chaos in front of them.

That's when she woke up.

She was in her bed, in the cold of the night, her breathing heavy, one hand clutching her pillow as if to keep herself awake.

As she calmed down, she lighted her candle and lay down under her blanket to think.

She had seen it, the Fall of Erebor.

She had felt the emotions of the dwarves as they witnessed the destruction of their Kingdom and home.

She had felt their helplessness and seen how they had been abandoned by their allies.

I had been so real. So terrifying.

Dwia made an oath that night: as the dwarves of Erebor, she would never forgive and never forget.

* * *

Winter had come, the 20th of Dwia's young life; and with it, a terrible fever from the North.

Whole districts of Esgaroth were quarantined, leaving the sick and the non-sick of these doomed houses to die.

In those times, there was no other known way to contain the expansion of the illness.

Death was hungry that winter, rejoicing in the daily funeral processions in the streets of the city.

Leann caught the fever and soon had to stay in bed.

Ebor and his wife had left the city two weeks ago to visit a friend in the country, thus protecting their baby son from the illness. They decided to remain away from the sick city.

Mother and daughter were alone in the big silent house, Dwia left in charge of everything.

On the 5th day of her mother's illness, Dwia, her young face marred with worry, called the doctor a third time before dusk.

Leann's fever had increased during the past night, her forehead bathed with sweat, her voice faint.

"What's happening?" she asked the doctor abruptly "Why is the fever rising again?"

"Your mother has reached the peak of the fever. She must fight it herself now. I left you some herbal tea to calm her down, but that's the only thing I can do now" he answered, the sad and exhausted lines on his face widening "She might speak incoherently for some hours. This night will be crucial for her survival."

Dwia sat down on a kitchen stool, shocked with such a dark diagnosis.

She could not believe it. It was a nightmare.

It had all happened so fast.

She tried to calm herself, and looked back at the doctor, her eyes still wide with fear.

"You must prepare yourself, young lady" he added, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder "I must go now. I will call back again in the morning to check up on her."

Then, he left her alone, the silence contrasting with the mad beating of her heart.

Pulling herself together, Dwia got up a few minutes later and put some water to boil.

She filled a mug with the steaming water and added the herbs given by the doctor. Her actions were slow and insecure, her hands slightly shaking.

Clutching the mug, she went upstairs and crept silently into her mother's room, readying herself for a night of anxious watch.

Leann's forehead was still very hot and sweaty. The candles were throwing their long shadows on the wall, shapes flickering slightly on the bed.

Dwia waited, listening to the whispers of the wind outside, and her mother's heavy breathing.

Around two o'clock in the morning, Leann stirred in her bed and reached a white hand towards her daughter.

Dwia immediately kneeled at her side and took her hand in her warm ones.

"I'm here, Mama." she said.

"Dwia, … water, please."

She gave Leann a glass of water and helped her drink it.

Leann rested her head of the pillow and her eyes focused on her daughter, a fain and sad smile on her lips.

"I'm so proud of you. My little girl, so strong, so independent..." she said.

"Don't talk like that, Mama." said Dwia, with tears in her voice.

"Like what?"

"Like we won't talk to each other for a very long time, after tonight"

A single tear fell from Leann's shining eye, but she didn't stop smiling when she said:

"But I think we won't, my Dwia."

Dwia threw herself against her mother's chest and cried.

"I don't want you to leave, Mama. Don't leave me alone!"

"Shh..." said Leann weakly stroking her daughter's hair with a tired hand. "You have to be strong, and I know you will be. This is not the end for me. Death is just another path. One that we must all take."

"Don't say that!" screamed Dwia and she sobbed even harder in the warm blanket.

Leann let her cry, and then she reached underneath her nightshirt to retrieve a small key on a chain at her neck.

"Dwia, rise, my child." she said as she gave her the key "In the top drawer of my night table, you will find a necklace, adorned with one square piece of carved silver. This is all I have left of your father, and it is yours now to keep and treasure."

Dwia was frozen in shock, clutching the small key with trembling hands.

She knew she was not helping her mother by breaking down totally in front of her. But she couldn't help herself.

"Try to sleep, Mama" she said in an anxious whisper, covering Leann's shoulders with the blanket. "I will remain at your side till morning."

Leann smiled at her and whispered back:

"I love you my child". And she closed her eyes.

Dwia kept watch during the rest of the night, silently pacing, checking on her mother, crying, and praying.

A white winter's light came from the window.

Dwia got up to witness the pale dawn for a couple of minutes.

When she sat back on her chair at her mother's side, Leann had passed away.

* * *

Dwia remained stricken in grief and tears for hours, until Bran and the doctor came to call on them.

She screamed and punched Bran as he tried to untie her from Leann's hand.

He managed to take her out of the room and downstairs and gave her something to sleep, at the doctor's request.

He carried her to her bed where she slept heavily for hours, exhausted physically and mentally.

The doctor sent a note to Ebor who arrived at the house at nightfall.

Shocked by his sister's sudden death, he made the arrangements for the funeral the following day.

Everything was so quick for Dwia.

The day passed in a blur.

She could not remember much of it.

Bran stayed at her side the whole time, anxiety written on his face as he stared at the statue of grief and silence his friend had become.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to the "Red Hot Chili Peppers".

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: Great thanks to all that fav or follow this story ! Please, please review and let me know what you think ! It's so important to me :)

I hope this story is not too serious or gloomy... I have the script planned in my head, and it's going to get less sad as the story go on, still angsty though.

Good evening to all ! :)

* * *

**Chapter 8 : Under the bridge**

Dwia locked herself up for days after the funeral, letting winter run its course. The snow melted slowly and the icy wind softened.

She felt utterly lost.

Her mother's presence still lingered everywhere, with each step, with each thought, and it wouldn't leave her alone. The pain was so real, all the time, digging in her chest.

She did not care for anything anymore. She had no worries, no desires, nothing to look forward to, nothing to save, nothing to fight for.

Her uncle Ebor and his wife left her to her grief, not knowing how to comfort her or even how to talk to her, as they had never been close to each other.

Bran was calling on her several times a day, bringing flowers or food to tear her from her inertia.

Dwia tried very hard to convince herself that her mother was gone, but it was as if each time she realized it, the grief would strike her harder than the last time.

The emptiness terrified her.

She was alone, with her secrets, these secrets she had only shared with her mother, her companion of a lifetime, the only person in her family who had truly wanted her, who had truly loved her.

As spring began to heat the land, the days passed and the pain lessened a little, thanks to Bran's presence.

Her best friend slowly helped her to come back to reality.

* * *

Someday, they were seated in her bedroom watching the active people in the street below.

Bran was telling her of his current work at the smithy. He had finished his apprenticeship and was now a partner to his former master.

Then, he noticed something shining against Dwia's neck.

"You have a new necklace?" he asked "I've never noticed it before."

Dwia reached under the cleavage of her linen dress and pulled out the silver necklace with the square carved pendant. She had worn it since the night Leann died.

Her eyes blurry, she answered:

"My mother gave it to me..."

Bran got up and sat at her side, his arm brushing against her, and said:

"It's a beautiful piece of work."

He did not ask for the origin or the story of this necklace.

That was a great thing about Bran: he wasn't nosy.

* * *

Weeks passed.

Dwia's pain turned first into sorrow, then to bitterness, and finally to anxiety.

She was worried for herself now. Leann had always been the shield between her and her uncle.

As spring passed, she noticed her uncle and his wife watching her often.

Many times, she had heard them whisper: "What will we do with her? She cannot stay in this house. She's 20 years old already, and quite old to marry I daresay".

Fear grasped Dwia when she realized they would find a way to seal her fate, with or without her consent.

One morning, as she went downstairs to prepare breakfast, she heard again Ebor and his wife talking about her through their bedroom door.

Her heart began to beat fast.

"I'm telling you the truth." the wife was saying "I have lived here for several years now and the servants have confirmed it: she never bled!"

"You mean to say she might be barren?" Ebor asked his wife.

"She has to be! 20 years old and she had not bled? There is definitely something wrong."

"Then we can never marry her!" he raged "No alliances. She's useless."

"Calm down" his wife soothed him "We'll talk about it later".

Dwia left the house and fled to the banks of the lake, with tears in her eyes.

She felt so ashamed: what if she was barren?

Women were supposed to get married and have children. If she couldn't even do that, she would never fit anywhere.

She didn't know why she hadn't bled yet. She didn't understand.

She had no one to guide her, to explain this to her.

She realized at this moment that she had never talked about this anomaly with her mother, and she missed her now more than ever.

Maybe it was because her father was a dwarf? Dwarves have much longer lives than men; maybe their physical development was slower?

She had to think of something.

She had to get away.

There was nothing left for her here, in this town, only pain and an unwanted fate.

After spending some hours strolling on the banks, she made her decision.

She would leave. Tonight.

There was no point in postponing her departure.

She crept back to the house silently at dusk. Her uncle and his wife were eating their supper in the dining room by the candlelight.

They motioned for her to join them, but she stepped back instinctively and told them she was not hungry.

After the house had fallen asleep, she packed her things in a travelling bag: all her savings, some spare clothes, spare boots, a bar of soap, water, some food.

She fastened her two daggers: one sheathed on the side of her boot and one on her waist.

She silently went downstairs, put her black cloak on and retrieved her bow.

She paused on the threshold and looked back once at the house she had spent her whole life in.

Then, she fled into the night.

* * *

She walked for half an hour in the dark streets, her hood hiding her face, her soft boots brushing the pavements silently.

She finally reached the house where Bran lived with his family.

She hid under the small porch waiting for the sun to come up. The night was long to end, the chilly air of April clinging to her clothes, the wind getting through her breeches.

Where was she going to go now?

She knew she wanted to say goodbye to Bran, she just hoped he wouldn't stop her from leaving the city.

She finally made up her mind to travel with one of the merchants' caravans that were daily heading South to trade with the Realm of Gondor or the March of Rohan.

But lots of merchants knew her, their name was known in the city, as well as her uncle's business.

She had to disguise herself, in order to not attract unwanted attention.

Dressed in brown breeches, a white shirt and a leather black jacket, she looked like a young lad.

She kneeled on the floor, and searched through her bag finding her long knife.

With tears in her eyes, she sliced her long blond hair, one lock after the other.

Dwia repeated the movement, until her hair was cut short, the wind brushing her bare neck in an unfamiliar cold caress.

Miserable, she looked on the floor where the token of her beauty and womanhood lay.

It would grow back, he told herself.

It was the price to pay for her freedom.

She put out a brown woolen cap and firmly put it on her head.

Dawn was creeping through the trees of the courtyard. The first window on the first floor of the house opened. It was Bran's bedchamber.

She threw a small rock at it and it collided with the wood of the window frame with a soft noise.

Bran came to the window and saw her.

She put her finger to her lips and beckoned him to get down.

Two minutes later, he was silently closing the courtyard door and walked to her.

" Dwia ?" he said whispering "What's going on ?"

"I'm leaving" she answered softly, whispering as well "I wanted to see you before I go".

"What ?" he said a bit louder "Going? Where?"

She had talked so many times of leaving, but he never thought she would really do it.

" Shhh ..." she said, putting her finger on his lips for a second "There is nothing left for me here now. I have to go."

"It's your uncle, isn't it?" he said, his voice angry "Has he mistreated you?"

"No, he hasn't. I'm just not wanted here anymore. I have to find where I belong."

"What if you belonged with me?" he asked, his eyes gone soft, as he took her hand in his.

Dwia smiled sadly at him.

She didn't want to reject him. He was her dearest friend but she had to.

She did not love him the way he wanted her to love him.

"I don't. I'm different."

"But how? How are you different?" he said, his voice now pleading.

She did not answer but pressed his hands in both of her smaller ones, and looked at him in the eye.

"I will always care for you, and I promise to come back someday and tell you about myself."

"When?" he said, bending his face to look at the ground.

"Before... before the end."

She reached her palm on his cheek and made him look at her:

"You have so much to do, and to be. I wish you all the happiness in the world because you deserve it. Don't wait for me, that's all I ask." she said, pressing their foreheads together for a second.

He sighed and she felt her heart tightening.

Then, she briefly hugged him and left the courtyard.

* * *

Dwia waited under the South bridge during the first hours of morning, letting her tears fall freely on her face, the salt prickling her cheeks as they dried.

Saying goodbye to Bran, to her house, to Esgaroth, felt like saying goodbye to her mother again.

Then, she heard the familiar sound of hooves, horses and carts.

Creeping out of her hiding place, she ran towards the caravan progressing on the great South Road, the sun blinding her eyes and illuminating her path.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to the "Red Hot Chili Peppers"

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M, violent language and scene in this chapter.

_**Pairing**_: OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_ : Thanks to all that follow and fav this story ! :) Here's a long chapter where Dwia is finally on the road.

Please review and let me know what you think. And have an amazing New Year tonight!

* * *

**Chapter 9 : Road trippin'**

The caravan was composed of three carts loaded with bundles of grey wool. On one of the carts sat a woman and a young boy, about 7 or 8 years old.

Two men were on foot, leading the horses pulling the carts; and two others on horses, one at the front and one at the rear.

"Hey there, lad" called the leader of the caravan riding the horse at the front, as he saw her trotting towards them.

"Where you're off to?"

Merka was a jolly sort of fellow, short for a man, quite large with his round belly, and bald but with a long blond moustache.

Dwia was relieved that he immediately saw a young man when spotting her.

That confirmed what she already knew: people see what they want to see.

A young woman leaving Esgaroth on her own to join a caravan would not be a possible option.

Merka would never accept her among his company.

"Any chance I might join you, Sir?"

"And why would I agree to that, lad?" asked Merka, with a small smile, not stopping the progress of the caravan as he talked to her.

"I seek better fortune in the South" answered Dwia, her voice serious, as she stared defiantly in his eyes, her head held high.

Merka's eyes were twinkling. He liked the nerve of this lad.

"You're not the only one" he grumbled "But what's in it for me ?" he answered back, challenging "What good would it bring me to take you with us?"

Dwia had expected this.

"I'm a fair hunter. You could use me on the road to feed your company" she said proudly.

Merka did not look impressed, and raised an eyebrow.

"And I can cook!" she added quickly.

"I've got my wife for the cooking" he said pointing to the woman seated at the back of the cart. "And my men are not so bad for hunting. They will surely provide us some rabbits for stews."

Merka started to turn away from her, and Dwia could feel her gateway slipping through her fingers.

She had to leave Esgaroth and could not travel alone.

She was on foot and it would be too dangerous.

So she run ahead to stand in front of Merka and said defiantly:

"Your men are not as good with a bow as I am. And the Southern road is dangerous these days. The part next to the Misty Mountains before entering the March of Rohan is often raided by orcs, coming from the mountains' caves. And extra bow would be an asset should you cross their path."

Merka looked gravely at her, frowning.

He knew the dangers of the road, but it was true that these last few years, the Southern road was becoming less safe. A shadow was growing on the trees of the Greenwood.

People had started to call it _Mirkwood_, and the orcs were again multiplying in the Misty Mountains.

Merka stopped the caravan and stared at Dwia, pondering her words.

The lad was tenacious, he thought.

Then, he made up his mind and told Dwia:

"If you can reach, with one shot, this oak's trunk, the small one at the end of the meadow, then you can come with us".

Dwia nodded and put her package on the floor.

She retrieved her bow from her shoulders, and positioned herself on the side of the road.

There was no wind, the light was good and clear, she had done this a hundred times.

She had to succeed one more time.

Nervously, she took a deep breath, and let her feet sink in the soft ground.

In a well-rehearsed dance, she took an arrow, pulled the string, aimed and shot.

The arrow lodged itself in the oak's bark easily.

Dwia turned around and smiled triumphantly at Merka, her bow in one hand, her other hand absently clutching the silver pendant of her necklace.

Merka stared at her, visibly impressed and then laughed loudly.

"Well, then welcome into the company, lad!"

"Thank you" said Dwia, shouldering her bow, and picking up her package.

Merka took it from her and put it on the nearest cart.

"And what would be your name, lad?"

"Bran" she answered immediately.

"I'll tell you something, Bran. You're as stubborn as a dwarf!" and he laughed harder.

"And as short!" she joked, laughing as well.

Dwia started walking on his horse's left side.

If only he knew...

* * *

Life on the road was hard.

Dwia slept outdoors, under the stars like everyone.

The nights were still chilly and it was difficult to relax and find sleep with all the foreign noises around them.

But she was free, there was no more pressure, no one to tell her what to do, no more already traced future ahead of her.

She felt tired, but happy and exhilarated at the same time.

She helped her new travelling companions as much as she could: hunting, cooking, watching the carts or taking care of Merka's son...

Merka's men were always teasing her unfortunately, her being the youngest man in the caravan.

Around the fire, they told uncomfortable tales of their exploits with the ladies, and were not embarrassed to piss in front of her.

But she was a man, she kept remembering herself. She had to act as if it was normal.

At least, she was safe and leaving Esgaroth behind her.

Dwia did not know for sure where she would stop, probably in a city or a big enough village where she could find some sort of job, in a tavern, or better in a smithy if she could.

They had been travelling for a week. Dwia started to feel gloomy and a little lonely.

She missed Bran.

She felt sad and guilty about leaving him in such a hurry.

Night had fallen on the road and they had just finished their supper. Merka was smoking his pipe, his eyes half closed, gaze lost in the fire.

Merka's wife was humming quietly to lull her boy to sleep.

He was already nodding on her lap.

Dwia's face was burning from standing too close to the fire, but she could stand away.

The heat reminded her of the afternoons spent in the smithy with Bran.

She loved the feeling on her cheeks, it made her feel alive.

Merka's low voice roused her:

"Day-dreaming are we, lad?"

"_Night-dreaming_ would be more appropriate…" she answered smiling.

Merka caught Dwia staring at his wife and son, with a sad look on her face.

Her eyes were glistening and her lips were pressed against each other, obviously suppressing some kind of emotion.

"Don't you have any family?" Merka asked her.

Dwia averted her eyes from the wife and son, and looked at the dusty floor at her feet.

"Not anymore" she answered quietly, tears already in her eyes.

How she missed her mother at this moment, and Bran.

She was just a young woman of barely 21 years old, alone in the world, fleeing everything and everyone she had ever known.

She got up to isolate herself. To think.

Before she left, Merka added quietly in a friendly voice:

"You'll just have to build yourself a new one, then"

Dwia nodded at his kind words and left the comforting fire.

She put her bedroll behind a big rock, close to Merka's wife.

She always took care to avoid one of the men, Joffrey was his name.

He was not saying much, but was frequently watching her with a knowing and greedy expression on his face. He was mean with the horses and spitting often on the floor.

She hated that.

There was violence repressed behind his eyes, and Dwia did not trust him at all.

Again, she had trouble finding sleep that night. Her thoughts turned to Dwalin, her friend, her only dwarf friend.

How much she regretted now to not have left with him a few years ago.

But she could not leave at the time.

She still had her mother.

As she clutched her blanket tighter around her shoulders, she finally let the tears fall, as she fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The next morning, before they left, Dwia went into the woods to relieve herself before departure.

She was always careful to be as far for the caravan as she could when doing so.

They were travelling alongside the great forest of Mirkwood.

Dwia always feared that Merka would find out she had lied, and that she was a woman.

Her business done, she put her breeches up and started to walk towards the camp, when a strong hand suddenly gripped her wrist.

He had appeared from behind a tree, watching her from the shadows.

"I knew there was something wrong bout' you…" a man's voice growled.

Joffrey had her hand in an iron grip, his breath hot and foul upon her face.

He was much taller than her, his nasty grin terrifying.

"Let me go!" she said firmly, struggling to free her hand.

"You little lying bitch, trying to pass yourself for a boy... I wonder what Merka would have to say about that?" he threatened.

"Don't you tell him!" she whispered quickly, her breathing ragged with fear.

"And what would you give me in exchange for my silence…? Come on…" he growled in a deep and dangerous tone, dragging her body closer to him.

She should have seen this coming.

She could smell his stench, the foul dried sweat clinging to his clothes.

Dwia had to put up her other hand on his chest in an attempt to separate them.

She was no fool and knew immediately what he wanted.

Joffrey tried again to pull her closer and to catch her rear, with his free hand, growling in her ear:

"I have an idea… Come on, I will have you beg…"

In an instinct of survival, she raised her leg high enough to catch the dagger sheathed in her boot and pointed it right at his crotch.

Surprised, he released her hand, and stared at the dagger with blind hatred.

"I will never beg. Never." Dwia whispered, fear and daring tightening her voice.

"Merka will throw you out of the caravan!" he spat at her "or if he won't, you will never be able to sleep again. I'll be watching you all the time!»

All was lost, she was cornered. She stepped back from him, her eyes wide.

For the second time, Dwia did what she felt was her only option.

She fled into the woods, her feet running as fast as she could, as she tried to erase the fear and violent images from her mind.

Joffrey's laughter accompanied her for a while as she sank deeper into the woods.

"Run, bitch, run! The spiders will still be faster than you! ..."

* * *

Dwia ran desperately for a long time, she didn't know how long.

Her feet and legs were hurting, her lungs were on fire with each breath, and her cheeks and arms were sliced by the many twigs she had run into.

The trees were becoming taller, the woods quieter.

She couldn't see the sky anymore; the leaves above her heard were too many.

The air was growing heavy, like all that was left to breathe was hot air saturated with moss wetness.

She finally allowed herself to stop, completely exhausted.

Her head started to spin and she had to lean on a trunk for support, just to calm her breathing, to analyze her situation.

She was all alone, in Mirkwood, the Dark Forest.

She had left her package on the cart with all her belongings.

All she had were the clothes on her back, and the necklace of her father.

No food, no water.

After running for so long, the thirst began to be unbearable and she stumbled further between the trees in search of water.

She finally reached a stream and threw herself at it.

After calming her thirst, she sat on the grass and pulled her knees against her chest, finally releasing the sobs, releasing her fears.

She had never been in such a hopeless situation.

Then, after a few minutes, Dwia felt a soothing feeling claiming her body.

She was sleepy, so sleepy.

But this place was not safe, she could not sleep... she had to fight!

All things around her became blurry.

As her eyes closed, she fell onto the grass into the deepest of sleeps.

A curious hedgehog came to sniff at her feet.

The only remaining sound was the water flowing on the rocks.

And the stream's water was dark.

* * *

_**Little cliffie there ! ;) **_

_**And the name "Joffrey" for the villain is deliberate : I just borrowed it from one of the meanest characters in GOT.**_

_**Feel free to review. I love to read them !:)**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to John Lennon.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_ : Happy New Year to all ! :)

Thank you so much to all that follow and fav this story, and to my awesome reviewers Ari and Ellie's imagination world ! You are the best :)

Here's what happened to Dwia in Mirkwood... ;)

* * *

**Chapter 10 : Imagine**

Twilight was creeping on the village. Its inhabitants were coming back to the comforts of their homes after a hard day's work.

The lights from the houses were casting soft glows on the street's pavements.

Dwia was walking slowly in the main street, glancing through the windows at the intimate scenes taking place inside the houses.

A wife was kissing her husband's cheek, as he took off his cloak.

Some small children did not want to finish their meals, nor go to bed.

An old woman sat knitting in front of the fireplace, the embers reddening her wrinkled face.

The village was small and Dwia quickly got to the end of the main street where houses were scarcer.

There, her attention was caught by the harsh noise of a hammer.

She crept closer to the forge on her left and peered inside.

A dwarf was bent over an anvil, straightening the angle of a sword with skilled strikes of his heavy hammer.

He was only wearing brown breeches and large leather boots.

Dwia came closer to him and stopped to stand in front of him; but he did not raise his head. He could not see, nor hear her, it seemed.

Her body was like that of a ghost's again, no voice, just eyes and ears. Like in her vision of the Dragon's chaos on the doors of Erebor.

The dwarf's face and body were covered with sweat, dripping alongside his chest and arms.

Her eyes followed the line of sweat making its way through the dark hair of his chest, until it melted on the belt of his breeches.

She looked up to see his face, and stared at the blue eyes that were fixed on his task, concentrating hard.

Dwia recognized then the handsome face of the dwarf prince, and remembered acutely how it was filled with anger and despair in her last dream.

Thorin's face was serious and somber, darkened by the hardships of his fate.

Some soft lines had formed in the corner of his eyes, from sorrow or from age, she did not know.

Probably both.

Something sweet then crept into her mind and soul, like a soft summer breeze that made her body shiver.

Even under this ghostly form, she could feel emotions in this place. Emotions she could not quite place, but that were thrilling and scary at the same time.

She had this irresistible impulse to raise her hand and feel his skin underneath her fingers, to make him real, to make him see her and look at her for the first time.

But as she greedily searched his eyes, he stopped his work, put down his hammer and walked near the fireplace.

He sat on a stool and grabbed a mug from the nearby table.

His black hair was wild, untamed, unbraided and wet from sweat. He did not look anything like the richly dressed young prince of the Lonely Moutain then. He looked like a humble and tired smith.

Thorin stared into the fire for a few minutes, and then raised a hand on his face pressing his fingers unto his eyes for a second.

She could hear him whisper to himself:

"How did we come to this? Mahal, how…?"

His sorrow and exhaustion seemed so deep in that moment that she gasped and tried to put her hand on his broad forearm in a gesture of comfort, as she kneeled next to him.

But her hand disappeared through his arm, the ghostly skin fading like smoke in the air.

He did not feel her.

He was real and she was just a ghost.

She was nothing, obscure, hidden in the shadows of this scene, just witnessing his pain.

Something awoke in her during that dream: she felt desire and cared for him at the same time.

Both these feelings confused her by their strength.

Her eyes became blurry and soon all she could see was the shadow of the dwarf's body, fading as darkness took her once more.

* * *

Dwia could feel the warmth of the sun on her eyelids, and a bird singing roused her from her deep sleep.

She felt like she had slept for decades.

The taste in her mouth was dry and her body felt old and frozen like a statue.

She tried to move her arms but every movement was painful, as if she had never used her body before.

She was lying in a bed. The sunlight was glowing from the window, lighting her bed.

A brown blanket covered her fully, except for her face.

Her eyes slowly accustomed themselves to the light and she looked at her surroundings. The bedroom was small but cozy.

A big window, a wardrobe, a chair and a desk, all made of wood.

And a bedside table with a glass of clear water on it.

The furniture was simple.

All was silent for a few minutes, until she heard noise of feet coming from below.

The bedroom must be on the first floor of the house.

Someone was climbing up stairs and an old man crept into the room, completely dressed in brown. His back was slightly bent, but his moves were alert.

His wrinkled face and eyes were soft, his brown hair and long beard quite messy and tangled with twigs. There was a small hedgehog perched on his left shoulder.

He smiled at her and sat on the chair next to her bed.

"Hello there, sleeping lady! I knew it would not be long until you woke up." he said gently, placing a blow of hot soup on the bedside table.

"Where am I? "Dwia asked her voice hoarse and cautious, as she tried to lift her upper body on her elbows.

"In my house, in the forest. My name is Radagast. You're lucky that Sebastian found you." he said, gesturing at the sniffing hedgehog on his shoulder. The small animal was staring at her with intelligent eyes. "A few more hours and you would have been sleeping forever."

Dwia's eyes widened as the stared back at the man, and then at Sebastian.

Something about this man was definitely strange, but she felt too tired to care much.

She felt too fragile and had this feeling that she was not in danger in this house.

"I feel so tired." she confessed as she fell back on the soft bed, and closed her eyes briefly. "How long have I slept?" she asked.

"Almost a month" Radagast answered smiling.

"A month?!" she immediately reopened her eyes and sat on the bed so fast that the room was spinning.

"You drank the water of the enchanted stream, little lady" he explained his tone gentle "I was able to cure you of most of its magic, so you did not lose any memories, but your body had nonetheless absorbed some of it. So a big nap was required"

"Thank you." she said truthfully, as she thought of the damage this water could have caused her "I did not know."

"Now rest a bit more and eat your soup. We'll have plenty of time to speak later. You're safe here and you can stay as long as you wish" he stated in a friendly voice.

Dwia nodded at him.

"I'm going on an errand now, but will be back before nightfall" he said "Sweet dreams, dwarf lady" he said as he got up to leave the room.

"I'm not a dwarf! » she said automatically and a bit louder than intended.

He looked back at her from the door. An amused expression was on his face.

"As you wish" he said.

This man was really strange she thought. As he made to close the door behind him, she called back at him.

"Sir? My name is Dwia, by the way."

"That, I already knew" he answered, winking at her before closing the door.

* * *

Dwia stayed at the house in the forest, and soon found out more about Radagast.

He was a wizard.

He had some powers but she didn't know exactly what they were. He loved the forest and its animals and protected them. It was a rather solitary life, as the wizard rarely encountered other human beings.

But he let her stay in his home.

She had nowhere else to go, so she stayed, and became quite fond of the old wizard and his odd ways.

He was gone most of the time during the day, wandering through the forest, checking on small birds' nests, worrying about the number of spiders growing in the South, rejoicing in the closeness of the trees, protecting all life forms.

And Dwia made it her job to care for the house, hunt what they needed to eat, crop the kitchen garden.

Her cooking greatly improved, as her bow skills.

Life with Radagast was quiet, and for the first time in her life, she did not feel judged, or like she was a burden. She felt safe, like she could finally rest from the sorrows she had been through, and settle down.

And so she stayed, and the weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years.

* * *

The wizard told her many tales about the five Wizards, and the History of Middle-Earth and its folks.

She spent hours reading old dusty books, and learning about the coming of Elves, the creation of Dwarves, the rise of the mighty Kingdom of Gondor, and other great events of the Passed Ages.

On some nights, her sleep was still plagued by dreams of Dwarves, of Erebor and of the exiled blue-eyed prince.

Her mind was like a book of memories, that only opened on some nights, where she would get to see scenes of the past of the Dwarves or Erebor.

She had told everything about herself to Radagast: the death of her mother, her unknown dwarf father, her healing gift. It was such a relief to not have to conceal things at last.

The wizard was not surprised and often smiled knowingly at her questions.

He revealed to her that he had been "informed" that their paths would meet, and that there were things he had to tell her.

* * *

One summer evening, they sat in front of each other for supper at the kitchen table.

Through the open windows, they could hear the fain whizz of the crickets, singing in the dusk.

"Why do I keep having this dreams?" she asked him, always eager to ease her worries on the matter, to understand "It's just so disturbing, like someone is sending me a message, and I don't know what to do."

"It's all part of your fate." he answered "Your life is linked to the Dwarves' fate, to Mahal's children."

"But why can I only heal myself?" said Dwia after pondering his answer. "What use is my gift then?"

"Even the very wise cannot see all ends, my dear" he stated with a cryptic smile.

Dwia felt frustrated to not be able to understand, to not know what to do or on which path she had to stand.

Should she leave the forest, now? Where would she go?

During the first years of her stay in the forest, this hesitation in her mind was not so strong.

But now, it plagued her more often. She felt more and more restless.

"What I see in my dreams, are these memories real?" she asked, eagerly once more "Are they real events that really happened in the past, even before I was born?"

"From what you told me of your dreams, they are a faithful tale of what happened to the dwarves of Erebor and to their leader" he said, reaching for a piece of bread.

"But is it real? Or is it just happening inside my head?"

"Of course, it's happening inside your head, Dwia dear. But why would it mean that it isn't real?" he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Hmff, you're so infuriating!" she said, through gritted teeth. "I just want to know... what's ahead of me…" she added in a tired voice.

The wizards reached and put his hand on hers in a comforting gesture.

"If you knew the future before it even happened, life would not be much of an adventure, don't you think?" he said, and added seriously "The hour is close when you will have to make a decision about your life. But don't worry; you will know what to do. It will all be clearer when the time comes."

He smiled at her, and she returned his smile, her mind easier now.

* * *

Behind the house, stood a small wooden hut the wizard used for storage.

Dwia had quickly set up a corner of the hut for herself, to practice. She would not let her black-smith abilities go to waste.

She loved mending, creating and carving things. It cleared the mind, and kept the hands occupied at the same time.

When she had finished fixing several tools and kitchen utensils, she started to work on smaller objects.

She added a silver carving to a small hand-mirror, she made some hair-pins shaped like butterfly wings, and made a steel belt for the wizard.

She loved her life in the forest. She could have stayed here forever. There were no worries, the everyday work was not too hard, the company was good. She was safe.

But always, she wondered.

She had this ability to heal, her gift. It must have a purpose.

Radagast knew more than he was telling her, or he _guessed _more. Often, he smiled at her knowingly, his eyes soft and almost proud.

The wizard had told her to conceal her gift from others, when she would leave the forest. She was surprised when he told her that, and asked why.

He answered that it would be most unwise to reveal her gift because some would seek to manipulate her and use her abilities for their own purposes.

So conceal it, she would.

Thinking about the wizard's words, Dwia grew scared of the outside world, but remained drawn to it at the same time.

And the dreams, these strange dreams about her father's race.

Would she ever live amongst her race?

Would they reject her, as she had been rejected and judged by humans?

Was she doomed to never belong anywhere? Should she stay, grow old and die in the forest?

On some days her mind was dark, her thoughts plagued by all these questions.

And on those days, she felt so little, so plain, so obscure that she wanted to hide forever under the familiar curtain of trees of the forest, and become one of them.

* * *

**_As a huge Harry Potter fan, I kinda quoted Dumbledore in this chapter, one of my favorite lines from DH. ;)_**

**_For those who saw DoS, I was wondering what you thought of it ? I loved it, but am quite curious about the "changes" in the original storyline of the book, and their aftereffects in TABA..._**

**_Please review ! I love reading them :)_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer **_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to the Lynyrd Skynyrd.

_**Genre**_: Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing :**_OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: Thank you _**so much**_ for the lovely reviews and to all that favs or follow this story ! :) I _**love**_ the feedback, it's really motivating !

* * *

**Chapter 11 : Free bird**

Forty seven years had passed since Dwia got lost in the forest of Mirkwood.

Everyday life seemed slow there, but oddly the days, weeks and years had passed very quickly. She did not even realize how fast they had gone.

She was happy here, her mind at ease, like the quiet before the storm. It felt like a pause in her existence, as if her fate allowed her to gather strength for what would come next.

Then on a chilly night of April, the passing of time suddenly rushed into another rhythm.

All was quiet in the forest. It was the heart of night.

Dwia was sleeping in her cozy bedroom, warm and undisturbed under the covers.

She would dream twice that night, those visions launching her towards a new adventure.

* * *

The smithy's door was wide open on the noisy street.

It was market day in the Rohirim village of Eimar.

Children were running and playing on the street. The crowd of customers moved slowly through the stalls.

As in all her visions, Dwia's presence was that of a ghost.

She could not be seen, nor heard.

She stepped into the smithy and noticed a young lad talking with his master, a tall man with a golden beard.

The back of the lad was all she could see, but when he turned to face her, she recognized her own features in him.

The lad had short blond hair, wild and messy, wore breeches and a brown shirt, both stained by the dirt of the smithy.

She was dreaming about herself, disguised as a young man, as she had done all those years ago.

This had never happened before in her visions.

She was so surprised that she let the lad, well "herself", pass through her ghostly body, as he made his way to an anvil. The feeling was weird, like she had being kicked in the stomach by some very strong wind.

Dwia stared at the lad and the wheels started working in her brain.

If she was dreaming about herself, she could not be dreaming of the past?

Because she had never lived the scene she was witnessing.

Was it a possible future?

She watched as the lad picked up some pincer to steady the cauldron on the anvil.

A broad figure suddenly appeared at the door of the smithy, casting it partially in dim light.

The figure walked further into the light.

Both Dwia and the lad were stunned for a moment, then smiled wildly before the lad launching himself at the tall dwarf happily, taking his broad hands in her small ones.

"Dwalin! "Shamukh ra ghelekhur aimâ" (hail and well met)"

The dwarf looked surprised for a second, gazed closer at the lad, and started laughing.

"Little lass!" he exclaimed, happiness softening his hard and tired face.

Then, the scene abruptly ended and Dwia was left in the dark.

But she did not wake up.

Her mind drifted in the silence and darkness of sleep for some time.

* * *

Slowly, another scene appeared in front of her.

It was a dark study, simply but comfortably furnished with a wooden desk, carved with Khuzdul symbols, a big fireplace and two chairs.

There were scrolls spread all over the desk, and two candles, as on the mantelpiece.

The room had no windows, and the walls were carved in stone, like if she was standing inside a mountain.

Thorin was studying a scroll, frowning. He was dressed as mighty lord, with an embroidered shirt and two large shinny rings on his fingers.

The silver beads on his braids glittered under the firelight.

Dwia wondered again if she was witnessing a scene of the Past. Did this scene take place before the fall of Erebor? When Thorin was still a young dwarf prince, learning his duty under his father and grandfather's care?

But as she crept closer, she noticed some grey hairs scattered in his dark mane, some fain lines on the corners of his eyes.

It was not the young Prince of Erebor.

It was the Exiled King, worrying for the fate of his people.

As she looked at the study, it was clear that his circumstances had improved.

During her long stay in the forest, she had dreamt about him from time to time, sharing his past, his fears, feeling closer to him with each dream.

Dwia could not help herself. She was always fascinated by his presence, and looked forward to those dreams, as she became more and more enraptured by him.

She stared at him from the other side of the desk and wished again, more than anything, that she could touch him, talk to him, even smell him. His head was bent on a scroll he was studying.

Except for the cracking of the fire, all was silent.

As she studied his handsome face, she released a heavy sigh of sadness, mingled with longing.

Almost immediately, Thorin raised his head and looked around him, his blue eyes wide and suspicious, as if he had heard something.

Dwia walked back a few steps away from the desk and gasped.

He got up and looked in her direction, searching for something that he could not see.

He was certain he had heard a noise, like someone breathing heavily, twice.

But he was alone in the study.

Dwia stood frozen, her hands on her mouth.

Did he hear her?

How was that possible?

His expression remained disturbed, as his eyes scanned the study once more.

Then, he was interrupted by the door opening loudly.

A young dwarf, as high as Thorin's waist, came running into the room.

"Uncle, uncle!" he was yelling happily "I did it! My arrow reached the target! It's the first time!"

The child took one of Thorin's hands in his little ones, his childish face searching eagerly for the dwarf's approval.

Then, something happened Dwia had never witnessed: Thorin smiled.

He smiled gently at the child and put him in his lap as he sat back on the chair.

"Well done, Fili." he said, and he pressed his forehead against the child's for a second.

Dwia was completely stunned at the scene, seeing him so happy, so calm for a moment through his worries.

"I'm better than Kili!" said Fili proudly.

"That is normal for now" answered Thorin in his deep voice "He's younger than you are. You will have to show him."

"We'll be the best warriors in the Blue Mountains!" added the child, grinning broadly.

And Thorin nodded, still smiling.

As the scene faded once more, a warm feeling remained in Dwia's soul, as she carved in her memory Thorin's soft smile.

* * *

When Dwia awoke in the morning, she knew.

Those dreams were the signs she had been waiting for.

She told Radagast about her dreams at breakfast and asked for his advice.

"Do you think I have to leave then?" she asked eventually.

He sighed and looked at her with a small smile.

"It is not good to dwell on dreams, and forget to live, my dear" the wizard said to her, as he put a hand on her shoulder.

"You think it is time then? I have to go to this village in Rohan where I will find work in a smithy and meet Dwalin once more."

"Yes, I think it is time." he answered seriously "You have to live amongst your kin now. I will bring you a pony, so you can practice your riding and leave as soon as you want."

"Thank you, Radagast" she said honestly "for everything."

"It'll be weird not having you around…" he confessed.

"It'll be weird to leave…" she confessed.

They both smiled sadly at each other.

* * *

A month later, Dwia was ready.

A soft wind was making the trees whisper to each other, and she filled her lungs fully with the familiar air of the forest.

The morning was bright as she tightened her saddle and her package on the pony's back.

Then, she turned to the wizard and said sadly:

"This is it, I guess." Her voice was full of sadness, tears starting to fall on her cheeks.

She knew she had to go, but it was hard. Radagast had become her friend, her guardian, her family.

This place was home.

"I'll have none of that, young lady" he said, putting both his hands on her shoulders "It's not the last time we see each other, I can promise you that."

"I know. I'm being silly."

"You know you can come home anytime you want" he added smiling.

"I'll still miss you all the same." she said as she hugged him tightly.

"Me too, my dear, me too." he said, and then more seriously "And remember : keep your gift concealed, from everybody. You will reveal it in due time."

"I will." she assured him "I do not want to be loved for my gift, nor will I be used."

The wizard smiled and took her small hands in his old hardened ones.

"So you have accepted this at last, I see..."

"What?" she asked surprised.

"That you _want _to be loved. That you cannot live alone, nor do you wish to."

She blushed and lowered her eyes, thus admitting his statement.

He then kissed her forehead and let her hands go.

She felt a twinge in her heart.

Dwia mounted her horse and turned back to look one last time at the clearing, the house, the stream, the wizard...memorizing every little detail of her happy days here, for when times would darken.

She turned to look at him one last time and said in a small voice:

"Do you think they will accept me? The dwarves, I mean."

"You already have a friend amongst them." he reassured her.

"Do you think I will ever meet him?" she asked again lowering her voice and frowning with worry.

Of course, by asking this, she was thinking both of her father and of the dwarf king.

Radagast smiled at her anxiety, and his eyes twinkled.

She was a grown dwarf woman now, at 67 years old, but he could still see now and then glimpses of the young scared girl he had rescued all those years ago.

"Do not keep them waiting" was all he added.

She smiled, comforted by his words, and rode hard through the forest, until she finally got to the edge of the great plain of Rohan. The light was very bright outside the forest, almost blinding.

Slowly, as her eyes adapted to the light, she could see the shapes of the hills, and the wind merging with the grass in soft waves.

She had never felt so free.

* * *

_**Yay ! Small Fili ! I just love this character. Not enough Fili in DoS in my opinion. I mean, he is the heir ! :)**_

_**Here's some indications about the chronology of the story:**_

_**Dwia was born in 2850.**_  
_**She flees from Esgaroth at 20 years old in 2870.**_  
_**And she leaves Radagast and Mirkwood at 67 years old, so in 2917.**_

_**Because of her half-blood legacy, Dwia will live longer than humans, more like a dwarf's life expectancy.**_

_**- Just to remember other important events around the Hobbit's storyline :**_

_**Thorin was born in 2746 of the 3rd Age  
2770 : Smaug's attack on Erebor  
2941 : Battle of the Five Armies **_

_**Please, keep on reviewing and let me know what you think ! :) **_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to The Beatles.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes :**_Thank you so much for the amazing reviews ! You are the best ! I was so happy to read them :)

And thanks to all that read, follow or favs this story :)

* * *

**Chapter 12 : A hard day's night**

Eimar's village was the kind of place where you easily get to know all the inhabitants in a few weeks.

It was a village of men, families, some merchants, many farmers, some travelers on their way to Edoras or Gondor.

Being half-dwarf and half-human, Dwia had the advantage to let people believe she belonged to either one or the other race.

With some persuasion, a convincing story and some facts, people easily believed what she told them. She just had to have a strong faith in her own lies.

Being half-dwarf, she did not age as fast as humans did, so she knew she would eventually have to leave Eimar someday.

Of course, she had to give up her womanhood once again, and pass herself for a young man. It would not acceptable for a young woman to arrive alone in a village, find work and meet her own needs all by herself, without the support of a husband, a father or a brother. So she cut her glorious long blond hair once more and locked up her few dresses in a trunk.

She took back her best friend's name that suited well her false male identity.

During the first years, she had to work as a stable boy at the local inn. She loved animals so it was not a tough job for her. And spending lots of time in the company of animals reduced the time spent with humans, a clever way to avoid personal questions.

She rented a small flat on the outskirts of Eimar, above the local smithy: it consisted in a very large room, with a bed in the corner, a fireplace, a table with four chairs, a wardrobe and another small bed with cushions she used as a couch.

She had asked lots of time if the master smith could hire her, but he already had an apprentice and could not afford to take two. When his apprentice finally got married and left to join his wife in another nearby village, she applied again for the job and the master was so impressed with her skills that he hired her at once.

Dwia was friendly with everyone, but did not have too many social interactions, and mostly kept to herself. During all the years she had lived in the forest, she was often on her own and did not mind.

She tried to not attract too much attention to herself, already being often noticed because of her small height, in a town full of tall Rohirrims. She explained that she was from Lake-town, and that her folks were quite short people.

Her master smith, a middle-aged man, tall with a golden beard and a raspy voice, was lively and hard working. He appreciated the dedication of Dwia to her tasks, and her skill and precision when working on small objects.

As the years passed, he started to tease her sometimes about getting married. When she had arrived in Eimar, she had told everyone she was 18 years old, which was believable as her face had not changed much since she left Esgaroth.

It was her mind that had matured.

She felt more confident, with her flat, her job, her books and her dreams.

Dwia was finally a bit proud of what she had achieved so far.

* * *

Nineteen years had passed since Dwia had come to Eimar, and she was worried.

She was now 86 years old and it was starting to show on her face. She still had no beard, which was a laughing matter amongst neighbors: in fact, she had explained that she shaved every morning, the fires of the smithy being already very hot to bear daily. Shaving every day for a man was considered odd behavior in Rohan.

Her face and body had matured, and slowly her teenage features were fading.

She looked like a 30 years old woman/man now, by human standards. People would soon start to notice that she did not age in a normal way.

But the thing she feared the most was her life passing by, leaving her goals unfulfilled.

She was starting to wonder about that dream where she saw her reunion with Dwalin all those years ago.

Would it ever happen? Was it just a regular dream?

She had not dreamed of Erebor nor of Thorin for a long time now, and when she dreamed it was often the same scene of dwarves fleeing the Lonely Mountain. She feared that she had taken the wrong path in coming to Rohan, walking away from meeting her own kind, from ever living amongst the dwarfs and maybe finding her father.

On those nights, she longed for Radagast and his advice, his old voice full of comfort and softness.

She needed someone to guide her.

The rain was pounding hard on the window that night and she crept closer to the fireplace, her book closed on her lap, her eyes lost in the fire.

Her eyes were heavy after a hard day's work at the smithy and she fell asleep.

* * *

The room was filled with light coming from the two fireplaces, situated at each end of the long kitchen.

Thorin sat at the large wooden table, finishing his dinner in slow gestures, peeling an apple with a silver knife.

The room was silent, except for the kettle that started to sing on a nearby stove.

A door opened and a dwarf woman stepped into the room. She hurried to retrieve the kettle from the stove and poured water with herbs in two mugs.

As she passed close to her, invisible Dwia stared at the dwarf woman: her eyes were of a deep blue color and her black hair was shiny, and finely braided. Her clothes were richly embroidered and her hair beads jingled softly as she moved.

Dwia thought she was beautiful, and realized how much she missed dressing and behaving as a woman, with grace and softness.

The dwarf woman sat on the other side of the table, facing Thorin and handed him a mug.

"At last, they're asleep" she sighed "Those two will be the death of me."

"I cannot deny their enthusiasm." answered Thorin, after swallowing a slice of his apple.

"I still don't understand how they can be talking, running, screaming all day long… the energy it takes..."

Thorin chuckled at that. The dwarf woman frowned and smirked as she bent slightly on the table to tell him:

"You can laugh all you want. I'll happen to you as well one day, brother".

Thorin's features darkened instantly at that, and he straightened himself on his chair, his eyes very serious all of a sudden.

Dwia could not help but feel a slight relief within her heart when the dwarf woman had called him "brother".

"Dis... I know where this is going..." he said in a low and weary voice.

Dis' face hardened as well and she stood up, her hands on her hips, looking quite like a mother scolding her children.

"You know very well what I think of this. You have the choice; you could get married and have children if you wished to."

"There is no choice, Dis. Not for me." he answered his voice hard and sad at the same time. "My fate is to ensure the survival of our people, and to reclaim Erebor on day. I will not rest until I see it done."

Dis had angry tears in her eyes now, and she reached gently for her brother's hand across the table.

"You don't have to do this." she whispered pleading.

"Yes, I do" he repeated firmly "I have dedicated my life and honour to serve Mahal's children, and I shall live and die at my post."

"You're only saying this because you've never been in love. And how could you be?! You flee every single woman that crosses your path!" Dis said angrily again.

"It is the way things are" he stated, his voice empty of all of emotion.

"It is the way **_you_** want it to be" she spat at him.

His face was surprised at her comment, and then he turned his back on her. She knew him so well, after all their years of shared exile and grief. They had lost everything, mourned and reconstructed their lives together.

Dis seemed to regret her harsh words because she walked around the table and seized his forearms with her delicate white hands.

"I just don't see why you have to sacrifice yourself" she sighed.

"I know." he said, hugging her briefly against his chest "But for now, I'm married to Erebor".

Dis looked into his eyes, his blue eyes that were always so serious. Her brother was a good king, a strong leader, he lived for his duty and she respected him for that, but she would have him smile more often.

He hooked her arm with his and led her to the door of the kitchen.

"Get some sleep now" he told her, in a big-brother tone.

"Aye. Goodnight, brother" she said as turned and left the kitchen.

"Goodnight" he whispered after her.

Dwia was left alone in the kitchen with the dwarf king. Still unaware of her presence, he took the two mugs and his plate and put them in the sink.

The scene between brother and sister had ended.

Thorin left the kitchen silently.

But Dwia yearned for more.

* * *

She soon found out that her dream did not end here, so she followed him in the corridor.

She walked behind him and watched his hair moving why each step. He had longer strides than her and she struggled a little to keep up with him.

They turned left and he entered a room. She followed him closely and entered behind him just as he was about to close the door.

Dwia looked at her surroundings. This was a large bedchamber, lighted by the red and gold fire. There was a large canopy bed made of dark carved wood, and an armchair near the fire.

Thorin kicked off his boots in a corner, picked up a book from his bedside table and fell into the armchair.

But as Dwia had done before falling asleep, he kept the book closed on his lap and stared into the embers of the fire.

She could hear his heavy breathing mingled with the cracking of the fire.

Dwia kneeled next to him. He was so handsome, his face grave and regal, his blue eyes in deep concentration, his strong hands folded on his lap, his lower lip glowing with the firelight underneath his black short beard.

She had not seen him in her dreams for so long.

How she had missed him…

The room was getting hot. They were both standing very close to the fire.

Thorin removed his jacket, which left him in a white undershirt, top strings unlaced.

He reached a hand up and stroked the back of his neck, as if exhausted from the day and his previous conversation with his sister.

Dwia found this gesture very exciting. She wished once again that she could reach and touch him. Just once, to know what he would feel like.

There was a faint smell in the air: smoke and body warmth, like the smell of the bed when you wake up after a long night. She crept closer to him, her face close to his cheek, and the smell grew stronger. It was slightly spicy.

She had never smelled anything like it.

Dwia was so entranced by the moment she did not realize immediately that she was not supposed to smell anything.

She was a ghost, invisible. This was a dream; she was not really in the bedroom with him.

Her cheek was burning under the fire, and she could feel it now: the heat of his body so close.

She inhaled his scent once more and released a deep breath, just a few inches from his face.

He turned his face quickly towards hers, blue eyes searching the room, not seeing anything.

He had heard a noise, a sigh, like in this weird dream he had experienced all those years ago.

There was also a foreign smell in his bedroom tonight: it smelled of ashes, melted steel and faintly of lemon or soap.

He inhaled the smell unconsciously, closing his eyes.

The smell was sweet, and it excited him as an image of a blurry woman with no face came into his mind. It had been so long since his youth, since he had allowed himself to think about these things, about something else than duty.

After a hard day, the smell was comforting, like something you wish to come home to every night.

Dwia kept staring. He was so fascinating with his eyes closed, his face so close, and their breaths blending.

Without realizing it, she whispered his name very quietly: "Thorin..."

He immediately heard her, a woman's voice whispering his name, and opened his eyes.

He could see them now: the large and deep green eyes of a woman staring at him, just a few inches from his face. He had stopped breathing, and instinctively raised one hand and to grab them, to grab her, even if he was just seeing her eyes.

As he reached towards her, he blinked, once.

And the beautiful green eyes were gone.

There was nothing left to stare at, except the blinding flames of the fire.

* * *

**_When Thorin says "I'm married to Erebor", it's a tribute to Queen Elizabeth the Ist who used to say "I'm married to England". ;)_**

**_And some of Thorin's statements in this chapter are inspired from the Night's Watch oath in GOT, which I find quite strong and moving._**

**_Keep on reviewing and have a nice weekend ! :)_**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Dire Straits.

_**Genre**_: Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_: OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: Thank you for the lovely reviews ! They make me so happy !

And thanks to all that read, follow or fav this story :)

* * *

**Chapter 13: Sultans of swing **

Dwia woke up violently from her dream, breathing heavily. Her book had fallen on the floor close to the fire and she bent to retrieve it.

She sat back in her chair and tried to calm her breathing, unbuttoning her shirt at the top. She was hot, as if she had brought back with her the heat of Thorin's body.

This dream had become real, like two realities merging together, both their lives like threads tangling for a moment.

She had seen and smelled him. And this time, he had seen her too.

She was sure of it.

His eyes had been looking straight at her, into her, fixing her, staring at her. As in the dream she had made long ago, when she was still living in the forest, they had been able to feel each other's presence.

Radagast had told her that this phenomenon could happen to two people whose fates were connected somehow. It could happen when one was asleep and the other awake, or when both were sleeping. Sleeping made the mental bond even stronger, and the wizard thought it would eventually be possible for them to communicate with each other while sleeping.

Dwia felt so thrilled that he had seen her; that her presence existed a little for him, even if it was in a dream. She hoped he would not think he was going mad, for he had no one to explain to him the meaning behind the strangeness of these dreams.

* * *

Dwia lay awake in her bed, waiting for dawn to come. The morning light was gradually filling the room through the window, changing the shapes and colors of the furniture.

Something had changed during this night.

After all this time in Rohan, she felt it was time to move on. She had learnt a lot here, about local people, about her craft. She even started to play the guitar. One of the waitresses at the local inn, Yrenn, tried to teach her how to play, but she was hopeless.

The forge and the kitchen were Dwia's forte, not music.

Yrenn was a widow of about 40 years old. When her husband died of the flu ten years ago, she had to find work to support her two children, and had been working at the local inn since. Yrenn was a broad and short woman, with a curtain of golden hair and a loud and communicative laughter. Dwia and her had become friends, since she often took her meals at the inn, her flat being small and inconvenient for cooking. There were some whispers in the village about the impropriety of such a friendship between a young man and a middle-aged widow.

Yrenn had seen right through Dwia's scheme after talking to her for a couple of times. She was the only person that knew of her true identity in the village. And it was such a relief to have one person that she didn't have to lie to all the time.

Morning was finally there, and Dwia left her flat to take her breakfast at the inn. The streets were still quiet. She sat at a table and ordered tea and scrambled eggs with toasts. Her mind was still wandering in the meanings and emotions of last night's dream.

The inn master greeted his early customers, and as his wife passed by with full plates, he kissed her softly on the cheek. The wife smiled and brought the plates to a nearby table.

Dwia detached her hands from the warmth of her tea cup, staring at the couple.

Almost twenty years passing as a man and working in the forge had hardened her hands. They were dry and slightly crumpled. She missed being a woman, now even more after last night's dream. During her stay in Eimar, she had been attracted to some men of the village. Rohirrims were impressive, tall, with blond hair and broad statures. She acknowledged their beauty, but was a little scared of them, with her being so small. And besides, she was a young man in the village. It was not as if anything could ever happen.

She was sometimes teased about her small height and petite stature. But after a while, people got used to Bran, the smith's lonely apprentice.

Dwia finished her breakfast, left the inn and went to work, as the streets filled with workers and merchants. At ten, she took a break from her work and sat on a stool to rest for a couple of minutes.

"Bran?" called her master "Can I return these pots to the butcher's wife?"

"Yes, I've finished mending the lot yesterday" she answered, getting up to pick up the bag of pots, and giving it to him.

"Perfect. I'll be back after lunch." He said "And be sure to get some food! You're getting leaner by the minute!"

"I'll always be small and skinny to you, Rohirimms!" she retorted with a smile." And I'm not likely to grow up anymore. Except sideways."

The master laughed loudly and clapped her on the shoulder, almost sending her on her knees.

"Well, a bit of _sideways'_ fat wouldn't hurt you." he added as her left the forge.

Dwia massaged her poor shoulder. No matter how strong and muscular she would get thanks to her work, men in the village would always be stronger than her.

Sometimes, she wanted to scream at them: "I'm a bloody woman! So I'll appreciate you not trying to break me all the time!"

She smiled at the thought and got back to work.

As she focused on her anvil, a shadow clouded the forge, and she turned to look at the visitor standing in the doorway.

"Is it possible to sharpen some weapons in'ere?" said a gruffly voice.

She knew that voice well, too well.

She would never forget it, and her heart started to beat hard in her chest.

Dwia rushed to him and clasped her hands on his large forearms.

"Dwalin!" she exclaimed, her smile wide.

"Lass !"he said, a smile softening his hardened features.

"What you're doin' in Rohan all by yourself ?" he asked as he looked at her closely.

She dragged him inside the forge and closed the door behind them.

"I'm Bran here, my friend, an apprentice to the local smith." she whispered.

He understood immediately and nodded.

"I often wondered what had happened to you. I was stopping in Esgaroth four years ago, but could not find you."

Dwia was so happy that he had been looking for her during his travels that she squeezed his large hands in delight, smiling broadly.

"I left three years after we first met. And I tried to make my own way in the world. Pretending I'm a man has made things considerably easier, I must say."

He ruffled her short wild hair, remembering when it was long and shiny, not filled with dust from the forge.

"Quite clever." He admitted. "You will have to tell me the tale of your adventures."

"Of course!" she said eargerly. "Are you staying?"

"Aye. At the local inn with my brother and sister for a couple of days. Would you join us for supper tonight?"

"I will. With great pleasure." she answered. "Just give me those and I'll take care of them" she gestured, picking up his weapons in her arms.

"Thanks. Till tonight then" he said, squeezing her shoulder gently.

She smiled as he left the forge. Her heart was boiling with happiness.

What she had seen in her dream all those years ago had finally come to pass.

Dwalin had found her again, and it felt good.

It felt like home.

* * *

The sun had set on the streets of Eimar.

Dwia was way too much excited to be productive at the forge that day.

All day long, she had been distracted.

Dwalin was again in her life and she was very happy. She was at a crossroads.

Should she stay in Rohan and resume her work in the smithy, or should she leave with him?

Would he want her to?

It was in her temper to always look forward, to plan her next move.

Lots of questions were plaguing her mind, but it was not a bad thing.

It was thrilling.

She stopped at her flat to change her clothes and wash, and left for the inn in a hurry.

When she stepped in, the place was noisy. It was supper time and the customers were hungry and tired from their travels.

Yrenn just stepped in front of her carrying a tray full of ales.

"Bran !" she said, a smile on her slightly weary face "Fancy a bit of homemade beef pie?"

"It'd like that very much, but I'm meeting with some friends for supper." she answered, returning the smile.

"Aye. I already know." Yrenn said smirking "The pack of dwarves there?" she motioned towards the back of the inn.

"Aye." said Dwia, slightly worried about her friend's reaction to her hanging around with some foreign dwarves.

"Well, join them and get settled. I'll be there in a minute."

"There's no rush. We're not in a hurry." said Dwia, putting a hand on her arm, seeing that Yrenn was already very busy.

"Thanks. But I won't be long all the same. That tall tattooed dwarf is quite striking" Yrenn whispered the last sentence and winked.

She then rushed away to serve the mugs of ales to a nearby table.

Dwia watched her serve the customers and marveled at her good fortune to have such a friend: someone who was not judgmental, tolerant, funny, and caring.

Mixed friendships between races were not unseen, but usually frowned upon. Different folk kept to themselves and it was the way of things.

How well did Dwia know that…

Yrenn used to state, shrugging: "We all come back to earth eventually, and there won't be any difference between our ashes."

Dwia tore her gaze from her friend and made her way to the table of dwarves at the back of the inn.

There were seated quite far from the other customers, which was good news. Their conversations would not be overheard this way.

Dwalin spotted her and stood up clasping both her shoulders in his strong hands.

"Dwia ! Come and sit with us." he said in his low voice.

She frowned at him immediately and put a finger to her lips. He immediately clasped his hand on his mouth at his blunder.

"I mean, Bran, lad... come and join us" he rectified a bit louder, as if he was hailing a nearby pal.

Dwia laughed and hugged him briefly. As soon as she saw him, she had made up her mind anyway: she would ask him, at the end of the evening, if she could accompany him wherever he was going.

Dwalin sat on the bench and she joined him.

"Allow me to introduce my brother, Balin, son of Fundin" he said nodding at a short dwarf with a pointy brown beard.

Balin nodded and smiled at her. Dwia bowed her head and smiled back.

"And my sister, Dislin, daughter of Fundin" Dwalin added, pointing at a female dwarf with deep brown and golden eyes. Her hair was dense and expertly braided, as was her thin beard.

Dwia nodded again and said to both of them:

"Bran, at your service."

Balin and Dislin had very soft and happy faces and seemed a little less serious than their younger brother. Their eyes were twinkling.

Dwalin bent on the table and whispered not very subtly:

"Her real name is Dwia, the dwarf lass I told you about" he was grinning and Dwia rolled her eyes smiling. She was comforted to hear Dwalin refer to her as a dwarf

"Tryin' to make your own way in a man's world, are you?" said Dislin, staring at her. Then, she patted her brother firmly on the shoulder, and added "I like her already".

Dwia blushed slightly at the praise.

Dislin was a broad dwarf woman, the first she had seen in the flesh. The only other dwarf women she had seen before were in her dreams.

She seemed confident and jolly at the same time. She stood quite upright and was impressive, as befitted folk from the line of Durin, Dwia thought.

"I glad you think so" confessed Dwia "My behavior is not one that would be encouraged by many"

"Well, it's quite brave of you to meet your needs by yourself, have a job and all."

Dwia smiled at her and thought to herself sadly _"It not as if I had a choice. I have no family"_. Her chest tightened at the thought, and at all the longs evenings spent, eyes lost in the fire, missing her mother, missing her grandfather, missing Radagast.

During her last years spent in Rohan, she had often thought about going back to the forest and resume her life at the wizard's side, if he would let her.

But now that Dwalin had come, all had changed.

Her reverie was interrupted as Dislin spoke her mind:

"We women have not many possibilities: either get married, or stay unmarried under the protection of our male kin. You just have to ask yourself which option will give you more freedom" she said, staring at Dwia and lifting her pint of ale with one small hand, as if it weighted nothing.

"Here's goes the headstrong sister again…" smiled Balin, raising his tankard as well, and winking at Dwia.

Dislin nudged her brother in the ribs and frowned at him.

"Men have no say in this matter, brother" she growled.

"Women of our people are so few that their situation isn't to be pitied, I think" broke in Dwalin.

Dislin laughed at her brother, and said, her eyes sparkling mischievously :

"Aye, we know who wears the breeches under the mountain ..."

"Hail to that !" joined Dwia, raising her tankard at Dislin.

Yrenn soon came to take their order.

"Did I heard something about ladies wearing breeches?" she asked smiling.

"I don't think you need any convincing about that." said Dwia, as she got up and introduced Yrenn: "Yrenn, these are my friends : Dwalin, his brother Balin and their sister Dislin".

They all nodded at each other smiling.

Yrenn looked back at Dwalin and stated, grinning:

"I've heard so much about you, master dwarf."

The evening was very merry and the four of them stayed talking together for a long time, until the inn finally closed.

Dwia was delighted to spent time with her friends, to learn more about their ways, and was fascinated with Dislin. The dwarf woman had taken quite a fancy to her by the end of the evening as well.

Dwalin and Balin escorted Dwia back to her flat as the night was dark and the streets empty.

She took Dwalin's hands between hers and looked at the two brothers, her smile wide:

"I had such an amazing night. Thank you very much."

"I think Dislin was delighted to have another woman of her kind to talk to" said Balin.

Dwia's heart felt warm at his statement.

He did not even acknowledge that she was half blood.

" Aye. It was great, lass" said Dwalin "How about supper together again tomorrow evening? Balin has things to take care of in the village, so we'll stay another night at the inn".

"It would be great" she answered, sadness filling her heart at the thought of them leaving the day after.

"Goodnight Dwia" said Balin, as he stepped aside.

Dwalin pressed her hands in his and said in a low voice:

"I will come to get my weapons back at the forge tomorrow afternoon, and if you're finished, I think we could have a talk."

Dwia's heart stumbled in her chest as she stared at him, eyes full of hope.

She did not dare ask him yet to join them.

She was feeling shy all of a sudden, as if the fear of rejection was still, always there somewhere at the back of her mind.

"Aye. I think we should" she answered, her voice shaking slightly.

"And don't fret." he added, his tone gentle "I think you belonged quite well with us."

She smiled, her eyes watering in emotion.

He let go of her hands and she watched him walk away, the moonlight shining on his bald head.

She smiled and ran up to her flat.

As she went to sleep that night, the blankets felt warmer and the room cozier.

* * *

**_I quoted Pippin in this chapter from RoTK ;)_**

**_Please keep on reviewing ! It's good for the writing :) Hugs to all !_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Lou Reed.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_: OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: What a crazy week at work ! But now it's the weekend, Yay ! :)

Thank you so much to all my wonderful reviewers ! And thanks to all that read, follow or favs this story !

* * *

**Chapter 14 : Perfect day**

As the afternoon was coming to an end, Dwia's stomach was full of knots.

What did Dwalin want to talk about?

She hoped so much that he would ask her to come with them. She would gladly leave everything behind to spend some time with them. She wouldn't have to hide her true identity anymore; and finally be able to behave and dress like a girl again.

She had prepared Dwalin's weapons in the corner of the smithy and was waiting for him, keeping her hands busy, as her mind was buzzing with thoughts and hopes.

A feminine voice startled her.

"Hello there" said Dislin with her musical voice.

Dwia came at the door to greet her and smiled.

"Hello. How are you since last night?"

"Quite good actually. Though, I missed you the moment you left. I had to listen to my brother's admiration of Yrenn's perfect curves ..."

"Sorry, I brought her along" Dwalin interrupted, as he stepped into the forge as well. "She wouldn't let me go without taking her" he added frowning.

"I'm very glad to see you both" Dwia said sincerely, stepping back inside the smithy "I'm off for today!" she added louder so that her voice would reach her master.

The master threw a glance at the scene near the door. The Rohirrim lifted his eyebrows as he saw his apprentice with two dwarves, and one of them a female! It was not very frequent, but there was more to Bran than met the eye, he has always suspected as much.

As it was not in the nature of the master to pry, he nodded and bid good evening to Bran and his companions.

Dwalin picked up his weapons and they set off.

* * *

The weather was nice and sunny. Dwia led them on a path outside the village. They walked for 15 minutes before they came on a grassy field dotted with daisies.

They sat on the grass and chatted happily.

Then, there was a silence and Dwalin got serious as he said:

"Are you happy here, lass? In Rohan?"

"I have been. "Dwia answered, her eyes bent on her lap.

"What about your father? Did you give up on finding him?" he asked gently.

"No. Of course, not. But I'm scared..." she said, her face distressed.

Dislin put a hand on Dwia's shoulder. The bossy dwarf woman knew how to be comforting as well.

"Of what?" she asked.

"Of not finding him...ever" Dwia admitted, almost whispering. "And … of rejection. I'm half-blood."

Dislin felt sad at seeing Dwia so worried. The young woman seemed almost guilty of her origins.

"There will always be mean people, intolerant people that will judge you. But the good news is you don't have to live with them."

Dwia smiled faintly at her.

"Look at me! I've decided to not marry for now and remain single. It's not acceptable behavior for a dwarf woman to do so, as there is so little of us already." Dislin continued "I travel, discover the world, and follow my brothers whenever I can around Middle Earth, and I consider it a blessing to have such a kind family."

Dislin smiled at her brother at saying so.

"We couldn't get her to obey as a dwarfling, and it has not changed." Dwalin confessed, grinning.

His sister hit him playfully on the arm and he fell on the grass on his side, laughing.

Dwia joined in the laughter, her mind relieved of a weight. All the dwarves would not accept her, but those three would, and it was already an amazing gift.

"You know, if you come with us, we will help you find your father" said Dwalin, his face determined after a short silence.

Dwia's heart exploded with happiness in a second and she threw herself at them, one arm on each of their neck, exclaiming:

"Oh I would like that so much. Thank you!".

After few minutes, she calmed down and told them, frowning:

"But I don't know where to start. I don't know anything about him. Not even his name. My mother never told me anything about him."

Dislin put her arm on her shoulder and tried to be rational:

"One thing at a time. We're looking for a dwarf. We'll have to search the different dwarf settlements. Lucky for us, we're a diminishing race!" she said sarcastically.

"And we're looking for a dwarf about at least sixty years older than you." added Dwalin.

"And sixty is still young to have a child, so maybe eighty years older than you." commented Dislin. "How old are you?" she asked turning to Dwia.

"86."

Dislin smiled and hugged her briefly.

"See! You're much more dwarf-woman than just woman. You're blessed with the long life of Mahal's children!"

Dwia smiled, and reached underneath her shirt to show them her mother's necklace.

"That is all I have left of my father."

Both dwarves bent to inspect the necklace better. They noticed immediately the design of the square piece of carved silver, and their eyes widened with recognition.

"This symbol is known" said Dwalin, his face solemn.

Dwia lifted her eyes to his expectantly, her breath caught in her throat, her lips parted.

Dislin tightened her grip on Dwia's hand and said smiling:

"Your father belongs to the Firebeard's clan."

"If he is still alive… "added Dwalin.

"How grim you are, brother !" Dislin reproached him, frowning. She hugged Dwia once more against her side. "You'll depress her!"

Dwalin looked down guiltily.

"No. You meant well, Dwalin. And I am aware it's a possibility." Dwia broke in, but the words were sour in her mouth.

"So, we're going on a quest?" said Dislin happily.

"Aye, we are. Where to?" asked Dwia.

"To Ered Luin first." said Dwalin. "We have a couple of stops on the way, people to meet, informations to gather. It will be a long journey."

"Ered Luin? The Blue Mountains?" said Dwia, her eyes twinkling with hope. "There is members of the Firebeards clan there?"

"Aye, there is." answered Dwalin. "And I've got to report to the King."

Dwia's heart stopped for a minute at that. She remained frozen with a stupid smile on her face for a second.

She was going where Thorin was!

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The dwarves were leaving in the morning and Dwia had lots of things to take care of, her things to pack, to see her landlord and master.

The latter was sad to loose such a good apprentice, but people had started to gossip about Bran and his dwarf friends, and he didn't like to be associated with strange behaviors. The master liked his apprentice but he liked the quietness of his life more.

So he made no trouble to let Bran go, and wished him the best.

When her pony was ready for the trip, Dwia ran to the inn to say her goodbyes to Yrenn.

They all had supper together, the five of them, Yrenn being on her day off.

Dwia had trouble to sleep that night and kept imagining the days ahead, how life would be in Ered Luin…

When dawn came, she was not sleepy, nor tired.

She was thrilled.

She put everything in order and double-checked her two big packages before biding them to the back of her pony.

She joined the dwarves at the inn and they left together, on their four ponies, happy smiles on their faces. Eimar's inhabitants stared at them oddly, whispering amongst themselves that they had always known that something was strange with "this Bran".

The merry party did not care.

They rode in the sunlight, side by side, to join the Northern Road.

* * *

_**Please do keep on reviewing, it's such a joy each time I read one of your reviews ! :)**_

_**I wish you all a great weekend !**_ :)


	15. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to the Beatles.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

**_Pairing _**: OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_ : A huge thanks to my reviewers for their unbroken support ! You are the best !

And thanks to all that fav, read or follow this story :)

* * *

**Chapter 15 : A ticket to ride **

The company's progress was slow. They were not in any hurry, and took this opportunity to enjoy in each other's presence.

Dwalin's older brother, Balin, was a merchant and carried with him several small objects of great value fashioned by the dwarves of the Blue Mountains : necklaces, engraved daggers and knives, pins for the hair, brooches to bind clothes … all of them enriched with gems and silver or gold.

About a year ago, the two brothers had decided to make a trip around Middle-Earth, mostly in Rohan, and Gondor. It gave Balin the possibility to sell his goods to other folks at a higher price, and to Dwalin the opportunity to visit some dwarves' colonies and gather information for the Exiled King.

And Dislin had decided to come along, as often.

Dwia already knew that the three dwarves, sons and daughter of Fundin, belonged to the line of Durin and were therefore related to Thorin. By travelling with them, she had the possibility to learn more about the Exiled King and the dwarf settlement in the Blue Mountains.

She was eager to learn every little detail about her father's folk.

She asked them to tell her about the fall of Erebor: Balin had been there. Dwalin, being younger then, remembered only bits of it: the heat of fire on the stone, the panic and the screams.

Dislin was born during their exile, before the King decided to settle the remaining dwarves of Erebor in the Blue Mountains.

Dwia learned that Dwalin had been an early companion of arms to the King, and that Balin had known him all his life. They had fought, suffered and lived together.

She noticed immediately how similar Balin's tale of the fall of Erebor was to the dreams she had had about this event. She had felt the same emotions of sadness, anger and helplessness as the dwarf.

But she did not dare tell them yet about her nightly visions. They were private and still impressed and scare her a little, even if Radagast had reassured her. She would eventually tell them, not just yet.

Sometimes they had to camp in the wild for the night, and at other times they would stay at an inn when they could find one.

During the long days of riding, Dwia asked them all they knew about the Firebeards' clan, their history, their customs, their settlements... She felt as if it would bring her closer to her father, even if she didn't want to get her hopes up too much.

Dwalin was also curious to know what had happened to her between their first meeting and now. She told them her tale and they asked lots of details about Radagast and her life in the forest.

* * *

One evening, two months after their departure from Eimar, they stopped to camp next to a stream on the borders of the Gap of Rohan.

"After crossing the fords of Isen, our progress will be less easy, and could be more dangerous. Especially in the wild land west of Dunland. We'll have to be more careful and set a night watch." stated Dwalin as he got off his pony.

"Wild animals?" asked Dwia, who had never travelled this far west.

"And wild men..." growled Dwalin "Wanderers... not all malicious, but surviving in the wild and not against robbery, or violence."

Dwia gulped at that. She retrieved her bow from her pony's back, and decided to sleep with it nearby from now on.

Dislin smiled at her and put a hand on her shoulder, smiling.

"Don't worry, dear. We've travelled through these lands before and we're still in one piece. Just keep your weapons close." she said, lifting the muddy hem of her dress to reveal a black leather boot with an embedded knife on it.

Dwia smiled at her. The dwarf woman was clearly more used to travelling, and maybe even to fighting than she was.

The sun was getting low on the horizon. Dwalin left to check if the area was secure, and to try to catch some fish up stream; and Balin took care of the ponies.

Dwia decided to help Dislin start a fire for supper. She now felt really close to the dwarf woman. Dislin was older than her and she treated her like a little sister, and both were glad of the feminine company.

"Can I ask you a question?" said Dwia, shyly, as she threw more twigs into the fire.

"Of course, dear." said Dislin, peeling some potatoes for the stew.

"How does it feel to have a beard?" Dwia whispered, unconsciously stroking her own naked chin.

"How does it fell to not have one?" asked Dislin, in return, smirking.

"It reminds me that I'm not a full dwarf" said Dwia, her mood darkening immediately.

"Don't say that!" said Dislin firmly "It makes you different, yes, but not less a dwarf, nor less attractive."

"Dwarves would never like a dwarf woman with not beard" frowned Dwia.

Dislin sighed and got up. She walked next to Dwia and seized her elbow up to make her stand.

"Stop this gloomy attitude right now and listen to me! Stand up!".

Dwia did as she was told and stared at her bossy friend.

"I tell you what I see" said Dislin, watching Dwia from head to toes. "I see a young dwarf woman, broader than an average simple woman, as tall as Balin, slimmer than an average dwarf woman, with beautiful green eyes and dark golden hair. I see full breasts and curves on your hips and belly. And I can tell you that dwarves like their women with meat on their bellies and thighs!"

Dwia laughed at that, and blushed a bit. Her hair had grown to reach the top of her shoulders and she intended to let it grow. From time to time, mostly when they were in villages, she wore a dress instead of travelling pants, and that made her feel good.

But she was still worried at her appearance. So she was glad to get Dislin's opinion and kind observations on the subject.

"Thank you, Dislin."

"Don't mention it" she said as she got back to her potatoes. "And your hair will soon be long enough to braid, which must be done before we arrive in Moria."

"We're going to Moria?" asked Dwia, her heart beating with excitement.

"Aye. There's a small settlement there, since the battle of Azanulbizar. You'll be able to see some of the famous halls and meet other dwarves."

Dwia's chest suddenly radiated with fear. She was going to be judged and scrutinized by other unknown dwarves. Not a very nice prospect.

She started fidgeting with her hands, and Dislin noticed it.

"Don't panic just yet. We'll be with you" she said sighing "And you'll never know the taste of fire until you've burnt your skin" she winked. "And besides, as I already told you, Dwarf women are very few, so there is a bigger possibility that you'll be courted and admired, than ignored. You will be the one to pull the strings."

"Really?" asked Dwia, felling a bit better at her friend's words.

"Aye. Dwarves are quite… obvious, you know. They like food, fight, drinking and snoring. And that's that. When they're interested in something, or someone, the whole world knows about it."

Both women started to laugh loudly.

"What kind of stupid things are you telling the lass, sister?" sighed Balin as he joined them by the fire.

"Nothing that's not true" answered Dislin, mischievously.

"Not all dwarves are like that" said Dwia, smiling gently at Balin.

"Glad to hear you say so, Dwia" interrupted Dwalin, as he took a seat next to his brother for dinner. "No fish tonight, sorry."

"It's fine. I've made a stew with the rabbit Dwia shot this morning." said Dislin.

"Resourceful girl" Dwalin said, as he patted her shoulder gently. "Don't listen to her. You'll end up an old maid, angry at all the men in the world."

"Typical." said Dislin, rolling her eyes, her spoon pointing at her brother. "It's not because I remain single that I'm an old maid. I did not meet my match just yet."

"Do not anger her, brother" observed Balin "She's the one serving the stew."

They all laughed and started eating.

"What is the King like?" finally asked Dwia eagerly.

It was a question she had wanted to ask them a long time ago.

There was a short silence, like they were about to reach a serious matter. Then, all three dwarves talked in turn.

"He's very brave, his life completely dedicated to his people. A fierce fighter and a great king." said Dwalin.

"He is also haunted by the loss of Erebor, even tortured in his mind sometimes. His mood is often darkened by the great losses he had to suffer." said Balin "But he is also kind and caring, especially with his nephews and sister."

"He is handsome" said Dislin, being the last to give her opinion "but sad, and much too serious for my taste." She paused and added, shrugging, "But it's true he did not have many happy times for the last two hundred years..."

Dwia stared into the fire, until her eyes grew tired of the light.

In her visions, she had seen these different aspects of Thorin's personality, but she was even more eager now to meet him.

* * *

They travelled through Dunland for three weeks. The weather was getting cold.

All four of them were eager to reach Moria to spend a couple of weeks in the warmth of the Mountain, shielded from Winter's wrath.

During their last night out in the wild, they had to build up two tents to keep the cold wind away. The dwarves were taking turns for the night's watch. They were all beginning to be weary of their long riding months of travel.

The wind was moaning against the fabric of the tent and Dwia found it difficult to find rest. Dislin was already snoring next to her and she thought, smirking "Snoring … not only the male dwarves..."

She finally fell into a troubled sleep where she woke up several times during the night, and it took a while each time to go back to sleep.

Towards the morning, she fell into one of her visions.

The fog was lifting on the plain that stood at the feet of the Misty Mountains.

Dwia was a ghost amongst the dead. The rocks, hills and grass were covered with bodies. Of dwarves and orcs.

Weapons and bits of armors were scattered everywhere. The landscape was red and brown, the fog like the hands of the Gods come to take away the souls of the dead.

A dwarf lay at her feet, a long dirty sword through his side. His face was constricted in an expression of pain.

Alongside him stood an orc, his throat deeply slit, his dark blood darkening the ground around him.

She repressed the urge to gag and felt tears in her eyes. She breathed and then took a look far away, at the end of the plain, and saw a group a still standing warriors.

She started to walk towards them, on this field of sorrow.

The group of dwarves formed the last gathering of living beings for miles. They stood close to one another and seemed to be comforting each other.

Dwia easily recognized the King, standing a little apart, his head fixed on the horizon, avoiding the field of corpses. As she stood closer to him, she kneeled and watched his face. Anger had given way to an intense pain. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears on his dirty cheeks. Dwia tried instinctively to reach for his shoulder, but her arm went through him.

Her body was not solid, as it had been the case in her other visions.

Dwia stepped back, leaving him to his sorrow. She then recognized her friends: a younger Balin and Dwalin were clutching each other in despair, crying at the slaughter of their race. She ran to them but they could not see her, nor heard her.

Her words of comfort were useless here.

The pain and anguish of the scene pierced her like icy water, and she started sobbing without control, her breathing ragged.

She woke up in the tent to a worried Dislin who tried to calm her down.

Dwia was crying, her eyes wide and muttering incoherently.

" Death... everywhere...and blood...our race..."

"Shhh... It was just a bad dream..." said Dislin stroking her friend's blond hair.

Then, Dwia rose suddenly, her head striking the fabric of the tent and exclaimed:

"Where are Balin and Dwalin? Where are they?" she rushed outside the tent, and Dislin followed her, an anxious expression on her face.

"Dwalin? Balin?..." yelled Dwia "not noticing the nearby tent "DWALIN !" she cried even harder.

"Dwia, calm down, they're just here, by the other tent" said Dislin, catching her hand in hers.

The two dwarves were starting to dismantle their tent. They ran to her when they heard her cries.

"Dwia, are you alright?" asked Dwalin, catching her shoulder.

"You're here..." she croaked, blinking at him "You're here". She breathed heavily, grasping his hands to make sure she was fully awake. "It was just a dream..."

"I think she had a bad dream" stated Dislin "There, sit down dear, and I'll make us some tea."

Dwia was still clutching Dwalin's hand, and closed her eyes as she sat on a rock. He sat next to her.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked, worried.

"Yes, a vision." she confessed "It's not the first time, but it's the first time you were in it, and I just… It was difficult to deal with it."

"I was in your dream?"

"Aye. And Balin too." She answered, taking long deep breaths.

Dwia told the three of them all about her vision, and as she was telling the details, they recognized an event from their past: the aftermath of the Battle of Azanulbizar where Thror the King, Thorin's grandfather's had been killed, alongside many dwarfs. She told them what Radagast had told her about what these visions meant.

The three dwarves were very intrigued.

"So you can see the past?" asked Balin, curious.

"And the present" she said "I had some visions of the life of dwarves in Ered Luin, even if I've never been there." She did not give them the details of these visions, as most of them concerned Thorin in his private life.

"I always knew there was more to you than met the eye." said Dwalin smiling reassuringly at her. "Maybe you're the Memory of our race?"

"At least, the wizard was not worried about these visions, so I think you'll be alright" added Balin, patting her shoulder in a comforting tone.

"Thank you for bearing with me. I must have frightened you all!" she said blushing and rubbing her sweaty palms against each other.

"Aye, we're all wide awake now!" said Dislin, handing her some breakfast "Eat and we'll leave as soon as possible."

"If only I could see my father in those visions, he might be easier to find..." Dwia sighed to herself.

* * *

_**I don't think there's still a settlement of dwarves in Moria after the Battle of Azanulbizar, but I've made up a small one (soon to be destroyed by orcs) for the needs of the story.**_

_**Please tell me what you think and review ! **_

_**Have a nice evening :)**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Disclaimer**_ : I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Françoise Hardy.

_**Genre**_: Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_: OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: Here's a small chapter to begin the week nicely !

Thanks to all that read, fav and follow this story : it's a daily happiness and comfort :)

* * *

**Chapter 16 : "Le temps de l'amour" **

The Halls of Moria were so high and majestic that Dwia felt like a hobbit lost in a kingdom of giants.

Pillars of stones as dark as the night reached a beautifully carved ceiling; and for the first time, she truly witnessed the greatness of the skills of her father's race.

The settlement was not much populated, and restricted to the smaller halls near the Western Gate, mainly because of the goblins endlessly attacking the dwarves whenever they could.

Belonging to the line of Durin and beings advisors to the King, Dwalin and his kin were welcomed with honor.

Dwia stayed with Dislin in simply decorated rooms where the furniture was adorned with beautiful runes. Balin and Dwalin were away most of the time, often meeting with the master of the settlement, Meiro.

From most of the dwarves, Dwia received respectful treatment. She thought it was mostly because she was accompanying members of the nobility.

Dwarves were not known for prying and few asked her about her origins or her lack of beard. To those who asked, she answered truthfully. She was half-dwarf and looking for her father. The Firebeards' clan was not considered nobility, but was respected nonetheless.

A few elder dwarves sent frowning looks at her and preferred to avoid her, their prejudices against half-bloods remaining stronger than for the newer generations.

A single dark look from Dwalin decreased miraculously the amount of frowns towards Dwia.

Dwia wanted to be accepted, so she asked at one of the smithies if she could be of any help. When the dwarf smiths saw her skills, they were surprised that such a dwarf woman, and quite frail in their opinion, could handle the hammer so well.

She gained their respect, and even perhaps the approval of some that day.

There was also a small library in the Moria settlement. It soon became her favorite room where she spent hours reading books and staring at maps. Dislin made her practice her Khuzdhul and she improved greatly during the two and a half months they spent there.

It was a blessing to not travel on the road during the hard days of winter.

One afternoon, she was reading and having tea in the library when Dwalin came in.

"Hey there, little bookworm" he said striding towards the corner where she sat surrounded by cushions, a heavy book on her lap.

"Hi Dwalin" she smiled at him.

"You're reading stories to tell us on the road?"

"Now I'm reading the full genealogy of dwarves of the Second Age. It would be a bit tedious for the journey don't you think?"

"Aye. Spare me." he said, his eyes twinkling "Will you come and have dinner with us?"

"Of course."

She thought he was about to leave, but then he sat next to her and asked:

"So you like it here?"

She nodded happily.

"The guys at the smithies are glad to get your help. They're quite impressed with the skills of such a young lass."

"They're kind. It's great to be back in the smithy again. It missed the forge on the road. It's familiar to me, a place of comfort and habits."

"I'm glad to hear it." he said "We'll be leaving in a couple of weeks, when enough snow will melt for us to get back on the road. We still have a three months' trip to get to Ered Luin. We should arrive at the end of Spring."

"Alright. It was great to stay here, but I'm looking forward to see Ered Luin, and maybe reunite with my father."

"Aye" he said.

He stayed silent for a while and then retrieved a folded white piece of cloth from his pocket. He handed it to Dwia. "This is for you".

"What is it?" she said, intrigued and smiling as she opened it.

Inside the handkerchief was a hair bead, carved in silver with the symbol of the line of Durin.

Dwia took it between her fingers and peered at it closely.

Then, she raised her head and smiled at him warmly, her eyes shining.

"It's a friendship bead. Dislin will braid it into your hair. That is, if you agree to wear it of course..." he explained.

"Of course, I agree" she said, leaping forward to hug him "Thank you so much."

He was surprised at first, but soon returned her embrace smiling.

"Thank you" she repeated her voice cracking, "for taking me in with you. I care for all of you very very much."

He leaned back and smiled at her.

"It's just that we wanted a less annoying sister than the one we already have" he stated, smirking.

They both laughed at that.

"See you at supper." he said as he left the room.

Dwia hugged the bead to her chest with one hand, the other stroking her now long blond hair, a happy smile on her face.

* * *

It was their last evening in Moria. Tomorrow they would be back on the road.

The winter snow had melted and the sun was slowly becoming warmer.

Spring was on its way.

Dwia was eager to leave. She had a great time in Moria, had met amazing people and discovered many aspects of her father's culture; but she wanted to get to the Blue Mountains.

Tonight, there was a feast for their last supper in the great Halls of Moria. The Durin line would be honored and there would be lots of food, maybe even a bit of dancing.

Dwia had been accepted quite well in the settlement, even more after she had started wearing her "bead of friendship". Along with her parent's necklace, it was the possession she now cherished the most; that reminded her who she was; that she was cared for.

The bedroom door opened loudly and Dislin burst in, a happy smile on her face and her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Are you ready yet, Dwia?" she asked, sitting on the bed, her skirt waving as she landed on the soft blanket. "The feast will begin soon!"

"I am" answered Dwia as she walked in from the adjoining bathroom.

Dwia was wearing a dark green dress of dwarven fashion, adorned with tiny pearls on the front of the bodice. It was a present from the master of the settlement. She stopped in front of her friend and smiled. Her hair had been braided with green ribbons, leaving just the braid and Durin bead in sight.

"How do I look?" she asked, a bit unsure.

"Great, very feminine" answered Dislin standing up and waving her finger in the air ordering Dwia to spin once on herself "And look, you have breasts! Who would have thought?!" she added teasing.

Dwia frowned.

"I've always had breasts…" groaned Dwia staring at her bodice and patting it.

"But now, with this dress, we can see them! And that's the point" stated Dislin smiling.

"They're not as big as other's dwarf women, but I liked them" said Dwia proudly, her nose in the air, smiling.

"Well after tonight, you won't be the only one to like them, dearie" added Dislin, winking at her.

"Do you think the dress is too revealing?" she asked, covering her cleavage with a hand and looking insecure again.

Dislin took her hand and dragged her towards the door, laughing.

Then, she turned back to Dwia and said mischievously:

"Dwarves like their treasures exposed, but in safety. So here, deep inside the mountain, you are safe and then you can be safely exposed and admired."

"I'm not some pretty diamond or glittering stone !" interjected Dwia, as Dislin led her down to the Great Hall for the feast.

"Dwarves are quite basic, I told you. Pearls, gems, diamonds, and women: all rare and shiny. It's the same for them." Dislin said laughing.

Dwia sighed, and followed her through the heavy carved doors.

* * *

Dislin had been right. Many male eyes had been following her during the feast. She had been asked to dance by at least a dozen dwarfs. They had exhausted her, spinning on the stone floor, until Dwalin came to her rescue and excused her as it was getting late. They were to make an early start in the morning and she needed a good night's sleep before departure.

Dwalin saw her back to her bedroom and left for his own.

Dwia felt weird: it was the first time she had been the center of attention. She did not like to be highlighted in such a way. It made her feel uncomfortable and shy.

But she understood that night that she was attractive to dwarves' eyes, and she felt a bit more confident after that.

None of the dwarves of tonight's feast had caught her attention. Some were gentler than others. Some less subtle and more blunt, but all had behaved nicely to her. And for that she was grateful.

She admired their sense of feasting; their happy and simple disposition, but her dreams and thoughts were already troubled by another dwarf.

Troubled for many years now.

* * *

_**Please, do keep on reviewing, it's the highlight of my day ! :)**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Simon and Garfunkel

_**Genre**_: Romance

_**Rating**_ : M - This chapter contains a scene of seduction *warning*

**_Pairing_** : OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_ : Thank you so much for the great reviews ! :) Some Thorin in this chapter and the first meeting is getting closer, I promise !

Huge thanks to all that fav, read or follow this story :)

* * *

**Chapter 17 : The sound of silence **

Dwia knew the meaning of loss, of loneliness, of independence, of danger, of friendship; and now, thanks to her three friends, she knew how it felt to be cared for.

That evening, she had been admired, complimented, and had felt the desire of others.

One young dwarf she had danced with had sweaty palms. His eyes were locked on her, drifting at times to her lips and glancing quickly at her cleavage, at the same time attracted and fearful to be caught staring. His large hand on her back had pressed her body against his unconsciously.

She had not been attracted to him, but had recognized his emotions.

She had been attracted to someone like that.

Away from the noise and music of the feast, her bedroom was completely silent, a warm shelter, deep in the heart of the mountain. The only sound came from the twigs cracking in the fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows on the floor.

Dwia sat in the corner of the room, watching her reflection in a mirror placed on her desk, the candles illuminating the right side of her face.

She reached up and touched her bottom lip, her eyes never leaving her own reflection.

Her chest tightened, and she felt so alone all of a sudden.

A great melancholy found its way into her heart.

She rested her face on her folded arms on the desk, and her eyes filled with tears. She could not control it.

It had been so long since she last dreamt of him.

His ghostly and dreamy presence in her dreams was like a balm on her heart and mind. She longed to see him, to meet him. She missed him without ever having met him. It was like something was missing in her life like an everyday shadow on her soul.

Did he knew? Did he really saw her last time, when she had fallen into his reality?

Did he feel the same? The craving? Was he dreaming of her?

Did he see her reality, without her knowing it?

She truly hoped so, because right now, she felt broken hearted, without even having the chance to love him.

* * *

Miles away from Moria, the Exiled king had fallen asleep on his desk, exhausted from the day. The ink from the scattered papers had stained one of his cheeks.

Dis, his sister, had come a few minutes ago, and seeing him so peaceful for once, she just put a small blanket on his shoulders and left the office.

In his sleep, Thorin's thoughts were blurry, jumping from one incoherent idea to a happy memory, and then to a deaf blackness.

A small light appeared in the distance, a comforting warmth flickering through the darkness of his soul.

The surroundings of the light slowly came into view: it was a bedroom with a fireplace. The bed was made of wood and carved with runes.

Thorin walked on black clouds until he stood in the room between the bed and the fireplace. His body was transparent, like that of a ghost, and he could not hear the noise of his own breathing, nor his footsteps.

The room was as silent as he.

The room looked like one of the guests rooms in Moria settlement he thought, no windows and an adjoining bathroom.

Then he noticed her.

A woman sat at a small desk, her back to him. Her hair was braided in dwarven fashion, leaving bare parts of her delicate neck and shoulders.

Thorin stood behind her as she reached up and started to unbraid her hair. Her small fingers were sliding through the dark blond curls in a very sensual way.

She tilted her head to the right, putting the ribbons on the desk and folded them neatly.

He stared at her lovely face, dark green eyes and pink lips. Her eyes were slightly red and her expression stern, she must have been crying.

Her ears were those of a dwarf, but her body was slim, her features soft, almost human. And she had no beard.

Thorin felt that nothing was needed to improve her already perfect presence.

Not aware of him in the slightest, she reached and stroked her neck, as if it was sore. She started to unlace her bodice, and let the dress fall from her shoulders.

Thorin did not avert his eyes. He was mesmerized, fascinated, stricken and rooted to the floor.

His body felt warmer just from watching her.

This dream seemed so real!

She stood up and he noticed she was tall, for a dwarf woman, as tall as his friend Dwalin actually, who was just slightly smaller than him.

The woman pulled out of her dress and put it on a chair with care.

Underneath, she wore a long white shirt that stuck to her body and fell to her knees. Her breasts, smaller than those of the average dwarf woman, peaked through the material, like two soft and tempting dots lost in the white material.

He felt like a boy as his blood rushed in very inappropriate places.

The woman shivered from the cold of the room. She stepped towards the bed and put a woolen nightgown on her shirt. She then sat in the armchair in front of the fire, and put her hands forward, warming them against the flames.

Thorin looked back at the desk, then down at the dress on the chair, and lastly at the mirror.

He could see the room bathed in a dim light, and now the blurry shape of his own body in the mirror. His own reflection became clearer, and it was as if he was actually in the room.

He turned back and stepped in front of the mysterious woman.

He kneeled and stared at her face. She raised her eyes to him, and gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.

Dwia could see his face, in front of her.

His blue eyes were full of surprise too.

Thorin had the feeling that he knew those green eyes. They belonged to the strange vision he had some months ago. Those dark green eyes staring at him in the faint light of his office.

He remembered those eyes. He never forgot about them.

She sighed and he felt her soft breath on his nose, stroking him lightly.

The woman moved her lips and he could see she was talking, but he could not hear a sound.

It was so frustrating.

Now that he had seen her, he craved to hear her, to touch her, to smell her.

The woman seemed frustrated as well, as she tried to talk to him again.

He was too entranced to try to understand her words through the movements of her lips. Those soft pink lips, glistening with the light of the fire.

Thorin felt his heart beating hard inside his chest.

He had never felt this way. Never.

The sound of silence was awful to both their ears.

The desire was too strong and he reached to touch the top of her hand. Her skin was soft and warm. He looked at their hands and entwined his with hers, his thumb stroking the inside of her palm.

The relief of being able to touch her was like a wave of happiness, and quickly his other hand cupped her beardless face. She closed her eyes and her lips parted slightly.

She reached her own small hand to his against her cheek, pressing their skins together. She could feel the softer and harder parts of his hand and fingers. The sensation was warming and calming at the same time.

When she reopened her eyes, his face stood closer to hers. It was very intimate, like lovers reuniting after a long separation.

His eyes stared at her lips, and Dwia felt a tingle in her belly as she understood he wanted to kiss her.

And she wanted him to kiss her, so much, to feel him, all of him.

As he bent his face, she felt his breath on her lips and closed her eyes.

And he was gone, like a puff of smoke, leaving her panting and cold.

Thorin awoke suddenly in his office, a parchment clinging to his cheek, breathing heavily. He angrily threw the parchment into the fire and sighed, very frustrated from his strange dream.

* * *

Miles away from Ered Luin, Dwia had trouble to fall asleep that night. Her reality and Thorin's were connected, she knew that already. But now, as she grew closer to him, it was as if the connection was tightening.

She felt so happy that he was now aware of her presence.

He was attracted to her, as she was to him, even if he thought she was just a vision, and not a real person.

And it was the first time that he had dreamt of her while she was the one awake.

* * *

_**Please review ! I'll try to update again this weekend :) Good evening to all !**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Disclaimer **_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Linkin Park.

_**Genre**_: Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_ : OMG ! Thank you so much for the amazing reviews for the last chapter ! I was grinning madly each time I read one of them ! :)

That really motivated me to write ! :)

* * *

**Chapter 18 : Somewhere I belong**

The road to the Blue Mountains was uneventful but Dwia was happy to see the landscapes change, to meet new people, and to see hobbits for the first time as they went through the Shire. The little folk were quite merry and lived a quiet life. She did admire them in a way, especially their propensity to remain carefree and positive in their everyday deeds.

The world was really an amazing place, so rich, with so much to see, even if travelling constantly was beginning to get quite tiring.

Dwia made an interesting discovery when they were on the road, though. One night, as they were camping in the wild, she had offered to take the last shift for the night's watch.

Dwan was near. Light was creeping on the eastern horizon, through the branches of the trees.

Dwia sat near Dwalin who was deeply asleep. She smiled as she watched him.

His features were peaceful, not always watchful as when he was awake.

His hands were folded underneath his chin, resting on his chest underneath his beard.

Dwia noticed his right wrist had a small cut on the side. The blood was already darkening and drying from healing on its own.

In the mood for experiment, she reached her palm above his wrist and concentrated on the cut.

Nothing happened for some seconds, like when she had tried to heal Bran all those years ago.

But then, her palm grew faintly yellow and tingled with warmth. She stared at it, holding her breath, waiting for the sensation to end.

When she withdrew her hand, Dwalin's wrist was bare, the skin white and untouched.

Her gift had worked on another dwarf.

Was it just because he was a dwarf like her? She already knew it did not work on humans.

Or maybe, it had worked because he belonged to the line of Durin, which her fate was linked with?

Was there another explanation? She did not know.

* * *

When they finally arrived in front of the great iron doors of Ered Luin, they were all glad and relieved to have reached the end of their journey.

Ered Luin's settlement was smaller than the Great Halls of Moria, but much more populated. The halls were beautifully carved but not as high. It gave a kind of cozier feeling to the place.

Less majestic, more real.

The streets were paved with dark stone that shone under the torches' light. The houses on either side of the street were nested inside the rock of the mountain and had wooden doors, all painted in different colors.

If she was looking for a single word to describe Ered Luin, it would be "homely". More than half of the dwarves that lived there were refugees from Erebor; and it was as if, after years of exile and wandering, they had tried to make their new home as comfortable as they could.

Surely to cast away the feeling of never belonging anywhere.

The sons of Fundin owned large lodgings near the King's house. They were several bedrooms, a kitchen and a large living room with a huge wooden table and several fireplaces.

Balin and Dwalin had much to do, since being gone for so long. They were gone almost every day to meetings with the King and his counsellors, making reports of their travels around Middle-Earth. Balin also had to make his accounts and meet with other merchants and suppliers.

Dwia stayed with Dislin, who showed her around. They went to the main markets and to several shops full of wonderful dwarven crafts.

There were several smithies in the city center and Dwia liked to stop by and chat with the smiths, like an eager child and with the knowledge of an expert at the same time.

No one seemed to questions Dwia's origins. She had come with the sons of Fundin, a noble family, and so even if some were suspicious about her slightly different features, no one dared say anything about it.

Soon, Dwia had formed an acquaintance with a nearby smith and asked him if he needed a hand. He readily agreed after seeing she was already quite gifted in the craft.

Working dwarf women were not very common, but not unheard of as well. Dwia, as usual, remained quite discreet about it, but she did not want give up her way of life either. She wanted to earn her money and make her own living, as she had done in Rohan.

Her three friends were letting her stay with them, and she was glad of it. After months of travelling and living together, she did not imagine living by herself again. At least, now she was working and participating at some of the expenses, even if they assured her, her participation was not necessary.

A fortnight after their arrival in Ered Luin, things began to settle down for Balin and Dwalin. They began to resume their usual activities and had more free time for their friends and family.

Dislin proposed to host a supper in order to reunite some of their local friends, and to introduce them to Dwia. They all readily agreed, even if Dwia's stomach cringed a bit at the idea of being the center of attention among so many unknown people. She remained a shy person unaccustomed to large gatherings.

The day before the dinner, Dislin was happily chasing the dust in the living room, while listing aloud the upcoming guests. Dwia watched her with a smile on her face as she put out two baskets for the goods they would purchase at the market.

"There's going to be our uncle, his wife and their daughter, Iliar. She's the dullest girl in the mountain I assure you, but we had to invite her as we were inviting her parents" Dislin frowned.

"And why is that?" asked Dwia, putting her cloak on her shoulders.

"She's not the partying type, which is quite peculiar for a dwarf. Never drinks, never laughs, quite the spinster already and she's younger than me!" she laughed.

"Maybe, she's just shy..." offered Dwia who wasn't very expansive herself.

"No, no, no" Dislin contradicted her, putting away her rag and putting on her own cloak. "You are reserved but merry, my dear. Iliar is no fun at all. Thankfully, we'll have our other guests to lighten the mood."

They both laughed and went to the market. Dwia loved the shops, the colors of the spices, the smells, the conversations...

"I need six chickens please" Dislin told the butcher.

"Six chickens" asked Dwia, her eyes wide. "But with us four, it's just going to be ten people at the supper. Why so much meat?"

Dislin gave her two baskets to the butcher, and turned to Dwia smirking.

"Let me explain. Tomorrow evening, there will be a dwarf in our house named Bombur. Last time he came for supper, he had trouble leaving through the entrance door, and almost took the frame with him."

Dwia laughed picturing the scene in her mind.

"The Ur brothers are very lively, but they're dwarves, and dwarves eat a lot, as you already know. Go fetch me a dozen of eggs and we'll meet here in a moment."

"Aye".

When Dwia returned, the two women made their way home, with heavily loaded baskets.

They started to bake cakes for the rest of the afternoon, chatting through the cooking.

"Two plums pies, a fruit cake and some baked apples" listed Dislin, as evening was growing near. "I think we're done for the desserts".

"Oh ! I've got an idea. Can I make some spiced biscuits?" asked Dwia.

"Aye, why not. It will go nicely with the much needed herbal tea after the meal."

"I'm going to get my cutters" she said enthusiastically, rushing to her bedroom, her apron whitened with flour.

When she came back, Dislin had cleared the table and was watching her with a fond smile.

"I made these in my forge in Rohan" explained Dwia showing four small cutters of different forms: there was a horse, a star, a fish and the dwarven rune for "E".

"Why an "E"?" asked Dislin as she reached for flour and eggs.

"Erebor" answered Dwia, grinning.

"Still having those dreams, are you?"

"Not for a while, actually. But the images are always in my mind. They call at me whenever I feel sad or thoughtful.

They started to mix the ingredients and Dwia asked her friend more details about their upcoming guests.

"So, these Ur brothers, do they also come from the line of Durin?"

"No, they don't" said Dislin, smiling underneath her beard.

"Why are you smiling?" asked Dwia with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not. I'm concentrating" answered Dislin, grinning wider.

"What clan are they from?" she suddenly said, hope and fear mingling in her heart.

Dislin paused and very slowly stirred the dough before answering.

"The Firebeards' clan" she then said.

"Mahal's beard! Why didn't you say so?! !" exclaimed Dwia, dropping her knife on the wooden table. "I'll never be able to sleep tonight". She sat on a chair and put her face in her hands.

Dislin rushed to her side and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry. It's going to be a great supper. They're very nice, you'll see." she said "And you wanted to meet people from your father's clan."

"Yes, but... I don't know if I want my personal history out yet ..." whined Dwia "Will it change the way people see me?"

"It's like everything. You'll never know until you try" smiled Dislin.

"But what if they know my father? What if he's dead?" Dwia continued, her voice rising in anguish.

"We've been through that already, dear. If wishes were horses, then beggars might ride. Calm down. Let's finish these biscuits and I'll make us tea." Dislin stated.

"Aye" Dwia croaked feebly.

* * *

That night, Dwia was tossing in her bed, her mind filled with "what if?".

She could not stop herself from fretting, even after a calm evening with her friends and their words of comfort. She felt so excited and scared at the same time, like the night in Eimar before Dwalin found her.

She picked up her book, but it lay for hours on her blanket unopened.

She thought about her life, her friends, what she had achieved so far. She thought about Dislin, Dwalin and Balin and family they formed, the way they behaved with one another. She longed to be part of a family as well.

Dwia thought about her mother, as she often did when she was worried.

Would she have wanted her daughter to leave Esgaroth? Not getting married?

Would Leann be angry at her for seeking out her father?

Would Leann be angry at her for choosing to live among dwarves instead of men?

Well, Leann would not have given her the necklace if she didn't want her daughter to find out more about her origins.

Dwia closed her eyes and stroked the carved symbol on her neck gently.

She did not know if Leann would have understood how strongly Dwia's life was linked to Mahal's folk, and to the line of Durin. She did not know if she would have approved.

Dwia just knew that her mother would have loved her nonetheless, because it was the way Leann was.

With that comforting thought in mind, she finally drifted into a light sleep.

* * *

**Next chapter will be interesting ... ;) Keep on reviewing ! **

**A great evening to all :)**


	19. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Keane.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_: OC/Thorin

_**Notes : **_Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, it's really important to me, and I'm so happy to read them !

Here's a long chapter : *warning* : revelations ahead ! ;)

* * *

**Chapter 19 : Somewhere only we know**

The next day passed in a blur. Dislin let Dwia sleep as long as she needed, suspecting she had had trouble to find rest last night.

After a quick lunch, the afternoon was busy with the rest of the supper preparations. Chickens were roasting, the cutlery had been scrubbed, the great table enlarged to fit all the guests.

At dusk, the guests started arriving.

Illiar wore a severe and distant expression, as Dislin had predicted.

Dwia thought it was a good thing: she would appear sociable and merry next to her.

Bombur was even larger than Dwia could have imagined. He took at least two places on the couch.

The three Ur brothers were quite merry dwarves, often smiling, even Bifur who spoke only Khuzdul because of an old head injury received in a battle.

Dwia was very impressed to see the small bit of steel that remained stuck into his forehead, and that he was still alive. She had seen some of the horrors of war through her dreams, but it was different to stand so close to a great warrior like Bifur. She spoke a little in Khuzdul with him during the meal and was pleased to see him smile slightly. He mustn't often meet young dwarf women talking to him in a friendly manner.

It was Bifur's quiet character that drew Dwia to him. His quietness seemed to fit her shyness and it was less scary to speak to him than with the others who were more at ease, laughing and talking loudly.

Bombur was very friendly and asked her about her everyday life with Dwalin and Balin. He then teased the two brothers for he thought they were quite lucky to have such a pretty young dwarf woman in their house.

Bofur was a middle-aged dwarf with a gentle face and smile, and a funny hat. He sat on the other side of the table, was amiable when spoken to, but seemed otherwise thoughtful as he observed the merry gathering.

When dessert had been served and eaten up, the mood quieted down a little, and Dwia followed Dislin to the kitchen to make some herbal tea and retrieve the spiced biscuits.

"Well, how do you like our friends so far, dear?" asked Dislin, as she poured water in a large kettle.

Dwia had closed the kitchen door, and let her back rest on its wooden frame.

"Very well, I guess. They're very merry."

"Do you want to ask them any questions?" suggested Dislin, giving her a pointed look.

"I don't know..." Dwia was twisting her hands together "Maybe another time. I don't want to be the center of attention all of a sudden. Maybe when we invite them again, just the Ur brothers?"

"Alright dear, I won't rush you into anything you don't feel comfortable with. But you might be frustrated to wait longer to get your answers".

Dislin carried the tray with the steaming mugs through the door. Dwia sighed and followed with the plate of biscuits.

* * *

The dwarves drew out their pipes and the conversations were quieter, as Balin and Dwalin told their friends about their travels.

Dwia shrunk into her seat, praying that no one would ask: "And what about you Dwia? Where do you come from?"

She would faint with discomfort to have to explain her complicated life story in front of such an audience.

The light in the room was dim and full of smoke as she listened to the conversations. Bofur was staring at his mug, clutching it between his large hands. He seemed a bit out of sorts, she noticed.

"What's up with you, brother?" suddenly said Bombur, putting a large arm on Bofur's shoulders "Usually you can't keep your mouth shut!" he teased.

Dwalin and Balin laughed, and Dislin smiled nodding.

Bofur smiled as well but shook off his brother's arm and took a sip of his mug, grumbling something that sounded like "Tired. Long day"

As he put his mug back on the table, his eyes found Dwia's, and his expression changed into one of sadness. The dwarf seemed to scrutinize her face for a few seconds, and then averted his gaze once more.

Dwia felt weird, as if she was a child caught stealing candy, as if he had seen through her.

The guests decided to call it a night, Illiar and her parents leaving first.

The three Ur brothers were finishing their mugs and started packing up their pipes.

Dwia then bent on the table to pick up the now empty plate of biscuits, and as she did so, her necklace slipped from underneath her shirt. It shone for a moment under the candle light, and then everyone heard Bofur gasp loudly.

He got up immediately and reached a hand towards her, his eyes wide.

Dwia instinctively pulled back, letting the plate clatter on the table, her lips parted, her eyes not leaving the dwarf who seemed quite troubled.

Around them, the others were silent, watching the scene with surprised expressions.

"Where did you find that necklace?" Bofur asked urgently, his voice unusually raw.

"I... I...I did not find it. It's mine." she stuttered defensively. "My mother gave it to me."

Bofur sighed audibly and fell back into his chair, his wide eyes fixed upon her.

Dwia's heart was pounding in her chest. He knew something about her necklace! He had recognized it!

Suddenly casting away her natural shyness, she walked around the table quickly until she stood in front of him.

"Do you know something about my necklace?" she urged, her voice cracking "Did you know my father?" Her pleading eyes were fixed on his still astonished face.

The dwarf was completely mute. He tore his gaze from her and ruffled his hair with a trembling hand, sighing.

Then, he took a deep breath and reached for Dwia's small hands. He made her sat on a stool facing him, and smiled to her directly for the first time that evening.

It was a not a big smile, it was an honest smile, a true smile, full of restrained emotions.

He looked at their joined hands for a second, and then raised his eyes to answer her.

"I gave that necklace long ago to the only woman I've ever loved."

Dwia stopped breathing and kept staring at him.

There was a ringing noise in her ears, as if the air of the room was crushing her head. Bofur did not notice that her nails were digging into his palms. He was watching her, expectantly, trying as well to recover from the shock.

Dwia felt a warm hand on her shoulder that brought her back to reality. The ringing noise fainted slowly. Dislin's warm voice soothed her:

"Breathe Dwia, dear."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second.

When she opened them again, he was still there watching her and smiling, an expression of disbelief on his face.

Her eyes were blurry with tears that she did not feel coming, and she started to sob. He pressed her hands harder in his own.

"I can't believe this" Bofur muttered, still staring at this young dwarf woman that was his daughter.

Bombur's laugh broke the tension in the room. And soon all were smiling, even Dwia and Bofur through their tears.

It was as if a dark room was suddenly filled with a long awaited light.

Dwia finally put a face and a name on the hope of a lifetime.

Dwalin opened several bottles of wine, and they all stayed to celebrate this happy day through the night.

Father and daughter talked for hours, sitting side by side next to the fireplace. Bofur told her how he met her mother, how she had disappeared suddenly leaving him no hints of her whereabouts.

The dwarf had never suspected that Leann could be pregnant at that time. He just had supposed that she had left him because their relationship was not approved; and that she didn't want to be rejected by both dwarves and men.

His young dwarf pride had been wounded by her swift departure, which he took for rejection, and he had not tried to find her, healing his heart through work and with the help of his brothers.

Bofur could not stop looking at her face, his daughter's face.

He was a father.

It was so sudden, so overwhelming.

They shared their life stories with each other, getting to know one another slowly, like cautious strangers.

When the guests finally left, Bofur asked her if she would like to come and see him at his toy's shop in the afternoon. She smiled for the umpteenth time that night and nodded.

He took again her hands in his, and seemed to not know how to say goodbye to her.

So he raised a large hand on the side of her small face and pressed it against her cheek.

She smiled widely at him, her eyes glistening anew.

Later, alone in her dark bedroom, Dwia knew that the sun was getting up outside the mountain. She closed her eyes and she could almost see it, rising up the horizon, with his funny hat and his warm smile.

She did not need any sleep that night.

She had found her father and he seemed to already care for her, as he had cared once for her mother. She finally knew where she was coming from, and it all made sense.

* * *

Dwia did not feel tired during her working day at the forge.

She felt thrilled and overwhelmed; and find herself counting the hours, bursting with the joy of seeing him again.

When she finally set down her hammer, she was grinning madly, bade goodnight to her master and rushed towards the toy shop like a restless dwarfling.

The outside of the small shop was made of carved wood displaying characters from fairy tales.

There was a small window on the left side of the door. Light was pouring through it. She bent and stared through the window. Bofur was focused on a small piece of wood in his hands, painting it with a long brush in slow and graceful moves.

Dwia watched him for a moment.

Dwarves never ceased to amaze her. How could such large hands make such delicate craft?

Dwarves were extreme: they fought hard, they laughed loud, they never gave up on anything. Sometimes they were harsh or stubborn, but that was part of who they were. And their ways were familiar to Dwia.

She was home amongst them.

She finally pushed the door and entered the shop smiling at him.

He put down his work at once to welcome her.

"Alanjuz ghelekh *" (*good evening) she said. He stared at her for a moment, and then grinned.

He gave her his chair and picked up the stool underneath the table.

"How did you learn Khuzdul?" he asked curious "Did your friends teach you a few words on the road?"

"No, they didn't. I practiced with them of course, and in Moria where we stayed for a couple of months. But I learnt it on my own. My Khuzdul is very basic, as you will soon find out."

Bofur raised an inquiring eye brow at her. How could she have learned the secret dwarf language on her own? Without another dwarf to teach her? Leann could not have taught her, as they always spoke in the common tongue when they were together.

Dwia felt his lingering gaze and decided to ask him questions about his craft. There was a lot of things about herself that she would reveal to him in due time.

There was still so much they did not know about each other.

Bofur told her about his work. He used to be a miner, like his kin. But when they arrived in the Blue Moutains and joined the settlement of the Exiled King, he had seen enough mortal accidents in the mines to be done with it.

He decided to open this joke shop with his cousin Bifur. He explained to her that it was his way to stay positive about the dwarves' fate. They would rebuild their lives after years of hard wandering, and he would make toys for the new generation.

Dwia started to slowly figure out her father. Even though he was quiet with his emotions, she could tell he would have liked nothing more than to make toys for her when she was a child.

They had lost so many years together.

But Bofur was not easily saddened. His was an optimistic nature. He just wanted to enjoy the time that what given to them.

He confessed to her he did not quite understand the importance of gold or treasure, as most dwarves did. He was not immune to their appeal or beauty, but failed to see how gold could be more important than anything else.

Having a home, food, family and friends to share life with, were the most important things in the world to Bofur. He admitted that if the dwarves ever left to try to reclaim Erebor, he would go with them, not for the gold, but for the happiness of coming home.

For a few weeks, Dwia joined her father at his shop every day. They would talk and sometimes have supper together.

And then finally, Dwia moved in with her father. He lived with his brother and cousin in a small house with three bedrooms. Bofur gave up his own room and she settled in. She was glad to finally have a place of her own. She decorated the room with some of her father's toys.

Dwia was thrilled to get the opportunity to spend time with her family, but she often went back to have dinner or supper with her friends.

* * *

The shadow of exile was ever dwelling on the minds of the dwarves of Erebor. Even if they had rebuilt their lives in Ered Luin, their real home stood in the East, stolen by Smaug.

Many of the dwarves of the Blue Mountains had seen dragon fire in the sky and their home turned to ash. And they never forgave, and they never forgot.

The Exiled King was to return to the Blue Mountains after some weeks travelling to the Iron Hills with his two nephews.

The dragon had not been seen for sixty years now.

Hope was on its way.

* * *

_**So, what did you think about it ? :) Please review !**_

_**About the coming chapters, this story will not follow step by step the progress of the Company to Erebor, but the story isn't finished either ... ;)**_

_**About the timeline, we are now at the beginning of year 2941 (Dwia is 91 - Thorin is 195). BOFA takes place at the end of 2941, after Durin's day (last moon of autumn), if I'm not mistaken.**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Disclaimer**_ : I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Johann Pachelbel.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes :**_Thank you so much to everyone that reads, follows, favs or reviews to this story ! :)

I changed the title of this chapter at the last minute, because as I read it again before updating, I was listening to Pachelbel's Canon. I'm a huge fan of classical music. I find it both emotional and breathtaking.

I was amazed at how Pachelbel's Canon suited the pace of the action in this chapter. As you'll soon find out, this a crescendo... ;)

* * *

**Chapter 20 : Canon **

One evening, Dwia arrived at her friend's house to find a very heated discussion between Dislin and her brothers.

"Nothing is certain for the time being, Dislin" Balin was saying in a firm voice. "We're waiting for the king to return, which will be any day now."

"Aye. We'll know more about this matter then" stated Dwalin in his serious low voice.

Dislin put her hands on her head with a frustrated sigh.

After making sure that her presence was not unwanted by following a friendly nod from Dwalin, Dwia sat beside him. He smiled faintly at her beneath his dark beard.

When she noticed Dwia's arrival, Dislin immediately called for her opinion:

"Here! Ask Dwia about it. I bet she will agree with me!" she said to her brothers, her fists on her hips in a challenging manner.

"What's the matter?" Dwia asked watching her three friends glaring at each other. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. There was a heavy silence.

"There's been talk about trying to reclaim Erebor lately" finally said Balin "As I said "he looked pointedly at Dislin "Nothing is certain, but the dragon has not been seen for more than half a century now, and the portents say that the beast's reign is at its end."

"Sure! Put your trust in senile and delirious old dwarves who would tell you all you want to hear, for a fist of gold!" cried Dislin, raising her hands in the air.

"They are the mouths of Mahal, Dislin. Do not talk that way" answered Balin, a little louder and frowning.

"And it's not as if we trust them blindly" added Dwalin "We've been travelling through Middle-Earth for a century now, gathering every bit of information. I saw the birds myself returning to the mountain." He paused and folded his hands together on the table "It is time."

"Are you raising an army then?" interrupted Dwia, curious and a little scared at the same time.

Dislin laughed bitterly and answered sarcastically:

"That's the best part! They think they can reclaim the mountain with just a dozen of them!"

"An army would immediately be suspicious!" yelled Balin "Just think, sister! The other dwarves, the men, even the elves would meddle in our affairs! We would never reach even the Shire with such an obvious army. It must be done quietly, in secret."

"And what assets do you have?" replied the angry dwarf woman "Will this small company of dwarves be helped by wizards? Or maybe almighty warriors with special powers? Can you fly and breathe fire, brother?"

"Obviously not" Balin said frowning at her "The composition of this company is for the King to decide. But I will follow him, to whatever end."

"Aye, he has my sword." added Dwalin, clenching his fists together on the table, the muscle in his arms contracting in an impressive manner.

Dislin sighed and bent her head in defeat. There was a moment of silence and she rose from her chair. As she left the room, she turned back and told them:

"Certainty of death? Small chance of success? Of course, what are you waiting for? Have supper without me. I'm not hungry anymore."

Then, she left and went upstairs, smashing the door behind her.

Dwia had never seen her bossy friend like that, so defeated. Her brothers would leave and she could not follow them this time. It must indeed be a very depressive perspective.

Dwia understood that night how much Dislin loved her brothers: her rash words and behavior was her way of saying the she was worried and that she cared for them.

Dwia went to the kitchen and came back with three mugs of ale. They all drank in silence.

"Sorry about the scene, lass" Balin finally said "Surely, our idea of how to take back Erebor must seem quite foolish and stupid to most."

"I don't know… I understand your need to go back" Dwia confessed "But I'm scared for your safety as well."

The dwarves smiled and Dwalin put a broad arm on her shoulder squeezing her against him gently.

"We'll take care of each other, I promise" he told her in his deep voice.

"I know you will" she answered pressing into his side. "I feel that it's something that has to be done, that there is no other way" she added in a serious and final tone.

"Is it your dreams?" asked Balin.

"I don't know... maybe. I feel like I've always known we would go back."

They had supper quietly together, until a broad red-bearded dwarf interrupted them just before dessert.

He seemed a little out of breath and did not knock before bursting into the living room.

"He's back" he said urgently, looking at Balin and Dwalin.

"Go. I'll clean this up" said Dwia immediately to her two friends "And I'll try to get Dislin to eat something before I go home."

"Thanks, lass" Dwalin said, squeezing her shoulder once more.

And they swiftly left the room, following Gloin into the street.

So it would happen.

They would leave, and her father would probably go with them. Dwia sighed and sat back on her chair, putting her arms on the table and her head resting on her wrists.

She tried to calm her breathing for several minutes.

As she had told them, she truly felt "there was no other way". But as she let a tear fall on the wood, she admitted to herself that she would have liked to keep them all close.

Their parting would be the most painful moment of her life since her mother's passing, and she already dreaded it.

* * *

Back in her own bedroom that night, Dwia quickly fell into an uneasy sleep.

A strong fear clenched her heart, like a lingering feeling that clouded all other emotion.

She dreamed of the dragon that night. The Mountain's Halls were empty, and she was running on the dark marble with her bare feet, wearing nothing but a nightshirt on her shoulders.

She first heard the noise, like a giant had penetrated the Mountain, crushing stone on his way.

He was chasing her and she was alone, feeling or imagining his breath of fire on her heels. She was out of breath as she reached the treasure chamber, deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. She stumbled to get higher and higher but she was stumbling on the golden coins underneath her feet.

She was sweating and panicking, scratching her hands and knees on the damned treasure.

Her feet were on fire, the air saturated with heat.

The coins at the base of the golden mountain were melting under the dragon's breath. He was in the chamber, and as she turned back, she could see him now.

Huge and quick, with his sharp claws and his red scales reflecting the light of the treasure.

His red and golden eyes were fixed on her. She was trapped.

Dwia started to scream as a wave of fire engulfed her.

She was trashing in her bed, sweating and screaming.

"_Urus_ !*" (*fire!) she was screaming as Bofur entered the room, awoken by her cries.

"Dwia !" he called firmly, grasping one of her hands in his "Can you hear me?"

Hearing the familiar voice, she opened her eyes suddenly, gasping. As soon as she saw him, she started to calm down.

He cradled her against his chest, as he sat on the side of the bed, and muttered words of comfort to her.

"You had a nightmare. All is fine now." he said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I saw the dragon" she whispered in a small voice "He chased me through the Mountain. I could not escape." she released a sob "I was burning."

She had to talk about the dream to make it fade, to erase it from her mind. So she told him all the details of it, the carvings of the halls, the treasure chamber, the dragon's scales...

Bofur's eyes were concerned as he looked in her eyes.

"Is it the first dream of this kind you've had?" he asked cautiously.

"No, it's not" she answered in earnest.

That night, Dwia told her father about her dreams of Erebor, and he listened, fascinated.

"Dwalin says I'm the memory of Durin's folk" she said, smiling faintly at the memory.

"Well, I don't know about that, but right now, it's time to sleep." he said, in his practical and sweet manner.

She loved that about her father. He always came back to simple things.

Bofur stayed at her side, until she fell asleep, reassured by her slow breathing.

* * *

Three days later, at the end of the afternoon, Dislin came suddenly into Dwia's forge as she was working and sweating over the hearth.

"Shamukh Dwia!*" (*Hail Dwia!) she said happily and with a slightly mocking reverence, her eyes twinkling "It's time for some socializing."

"What do you mean?" asked Dwia curiously over her anvil and hammer.

"We're invited for _supper_ this evening" stated Dislin dramatically.

"By who?" asked Dwia, reaching for some water.

"Dis."

"Mahal's beard!" she exclaimed, spitting water on the floor, with surprise.

"Come on, we'll have to get you a proper outfit. A _lady's_ outfit to be more specific" said Dislin, staring at Dwia's dirty shirt and breeches, stained with ash.

"Do I have to be there?" whined Dwia. She was still uncomfortable in the company of strangers. "I my father invited too?" she asked, hoping.

"Look how quickly you became Daddy's girl!" laughed Dislin. "Of course you have to be there. Everybody wants to listen to your story" said Dislin "_The hidden dwarf's daughter_" she added teasing "It would make a good title for a story, don't you think?"

Dwia's face fell at the prospect of being paraded and having to tell about her life.

"Come on" said Dislin smiling "It'll be simple and quiet. Just the three of us, just ladies. The men will be at a meeting with the King."

Dwia knew of Dislin's friendship with Dis, but had never met her since she arrived in Ered Luin.

So tonight, she invited at the King's house. It left her both thrilled and scared at the same time.

"Aye" Dwia said, finally agreeing.

"Great!" said Dislin before leaving "When you're finished, just go home and take a shower. I'll stop by to help you dress and we'll go together."

Dwia nodded and got back to her work. During her stay in Ered Luin, she had never dreamt of the King. Her mind must have been too busy with all the other emotions she went through in the last few months.

But now that she was settled with her father, and at her work, the news of Thorin's return unsettled her. She could not tell if she was more scared, giddy or overjoyed.

She knew she was bound to meet him at some point. Ered Luin was not that big, and her father and best friends would eventually leave with him on the Quest.

It was almost certain that the dreams they had shared did not appear real for him. He would just have thought that he was tired at the time, that he was imagining things.

Dwia hoped he would not think he was going crazy when he would see her.

She already had some explanation on her dreams, thanks to Radagast. But did Thorin have any hints of his dream's meanings? Surely he did not have another wizard to guide him?

What worried her most was his reaction.

Would he reject her?

Would he have her burned at the stake for bewitching him?

Dwia tried to calm herself, to put away those silly thoughts.

When in fear, it was a natural tendancy to imagine the worst.

* * *

"I knew I should not have listened to you, Dislin" Dwia said, breathing deeply.

They were standing just outside the King's lodgings, both dressed in beautiful dresses and cloaks, their hair braided with glittering gems.

"You look very pretty, Dwia" repeated Dislin.

Dwia was wearing a deep green dress that matched her eyes. Her blond braids fell on either side of her face, and her father's necklace was shining on her neck.

The problem was the bodice. She was not used to wear it and it crushed her sides in a very uncomfortable way. Usually, she wore simple wool or linen dresses, or loose breeches when at work.

"I can't breathe properly in this" she whined.

"Stop complaining. You get used to it. And it was time to show that you're female. Last time I saw you had breasts was in Moria."

Dwia blushed and stuck out her tongue to her friend like a child.

Dislin smirked and ringed the doorbell.

The King's sister apartments were simple, but decorated with taste. The colors of the tapestries and carpets were warm. The furniture was rich and Dwia had never eaten in such beautiful sliver.

Dis was impressive.

She had dark blue eyes, like her brother and a tall and proud figure.

Her eyes were kind and deep, watching every detail and scanning faces.

But she soon came to like Dwia's simplicity and manners.

The supper was quiet and, after a while, all three of them were at ease with each other. Dwia soon found out it was easy to speak with Dis. She told her about her life and her travels, and the dwarf woman was listening to her adventures with a small smile on her face.

They had finished dessert when loud talking noises could be heard through the door at the back of the room.

"The men are finished with their meeting and supper, as well" Dis said, getting up "Why we don't join them in the Great Hall for some herbal tea?" she suggested simply.

"It would be lovely" answered Dislin smiling as well.

Dwia froze on her chair.

Join them?

In the Great Hall?

Like "right now"?

Dislin looked back, saw her friend's pale face and reached to link her arms with hers.

"Come on, Dwia" she said leading her towards the door "I hope your father will sing us a song."

"Aye" said Dis "It's true he's an accomplished flute-payer and singer."

As the door opened, Dwia could see the gathering of dwarves in front of them.

She took a deep breath and followed Dislin, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

* * *

**Small cliffhanger at the end ! ;)**

**I put a quote from Gimli in ROTK in this chapter because it's so funny ! Please review and have a great evening :)**


	21. Chapter 21

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles are quoted in this story.

This title's chapter and, exceptionally the lyrics, belong to Françoise Hardy.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_: M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_: OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: I can't believe the amazing feedback on the last chapter ! This story has now 67 reviews, 115 followers and 63 favourites ! This is just awesome and thank you so much to all the readers :)

Guest : I listened to "Sleepsong" by Bastille and I thought that the lyrics fitted the story as well. Thank you for the suggestion and for the review :)

So here's the chapter you've been waiting for. I tried to update as quickly as I could (sorry about the cliffhanger). Just so you know, about this story, I started to imagine the plot and Dwia's character thanks to this song "Message personnel" by Françoise Hardy whose lyrics are really powerful and true, in my opinion.

Exceptionally, I just put a few lyrics of the song (with their translation in English) at the beginning of this chapter, as they fit with the state of mind I was in when I wrote it.

* * *

**Chapter 21 : Message personnel**

_Je suis seule à crever, et je sais où vous êtes (I'm so lonesome I could die and I know where you are)  
J'arrive, attendez-moi, nous allons nous connaître (I'm coming, wait for me, I know you, you know me)  
Préparez votre temps, pour vous j'ai tout le mien (Will you spare me some time 'cause I'll give you all mine)_

_J'ai peur que tu sois sourd (I'm afraid you'll be deaf)  
J'ai peur que tu sois lâche (I'm afraid you'll escape)  
J'ai peur d'être indiscrète (afraid I'm too forward)  
Je ne peux pas vous dire que je t'aime peut-être (and I never shall say that I've fallen for you)_

* * *

The Great Hall was a long room with a high carved ceiling. There were two fireplaces at each end of the room, casting soft lights on the red tiling.

Chairs, armchairs and stools were scattered around the room, and people were talking in small groups. The Hall was very noisy with the dozen of dwarves talking loudly and toasting to celebrate everything and nothing, as usual.

Dwarves never needed a reason for drinking anyway.

Dwia was gripping Dislin's arm, heating her friend's skin with her sweaty hand.

She had the feeling that all her life had been leading to this moment.

After finding her father, there was another main thread to her existence she had to follow: her dreams of Erebor and its Exiled King.

It was as if she was about step into one of her visions.

Was she thrilled or terrified? She did not know. She just kept on walking like a puppet.

Dislin stopped in front of the first group of dwarves composed of Bofur, Bifur, Bombur and Gloin. Bofur smiled at her and she relaxed a little. She let go of Dislin's arm and walked to his side.

He smiled at her and put an arm on her shoulders. The warmth was comforting and she leaned in his embrace. She felt safe with her father, so safe.

"Gloin, this is Dwia, my daughter" said Bofur proudly.

"Aye. I saw you in Balin's house a few days ago" said Gloin, raising his tankard to her "At your service, my lady."

Dwia smiled and nodded shyly at him.

Another dwarf came by Gloin's side, his hair was grey and he was holding a hearing horn. Gloin introduced the elder dwarf, Oin was his name. Oin gave her another "At your service, my lady."

He then winked at Bofur, and said, teasing:

"I understand now why you kept her hidden all these years... such a beauty in a mountain full of dwarves."

Dwia blushed at the compliment and they all laughed. Bofur then told Oin the story of their reunion. He was talking so merrily, with such enthusiasm, retelling the happiest moment of his life. Dwia was looking at him as he spoke, and it calmed her down. She was slowly realizing how much she had come to love her father for the last few weeks.

She let her head rest on his shoulder absent mindedly, and took deep breaths.

Thorin was in the room.

She could feel him.

Maybe, he was near the other fireplace. She did not know if she was imagining it, but she could swear the she heard faintly the low and rich tones of his voice.

Bofur snatched her from her reverie, as he tightened his hold on her arm:

"Come on, let's introduce you to the Princes" he said happily.

Her heart started to beat hard again. He led her to Dis who was talking with two young dwarves in one corner of the Hall.

"Dwia" said Dis smiling at her "Come, meet my boys."

The princes could not be more different from each other. One had golden hair, a braided beard and clear blue eyes. His smile was gentle, but there was also a regal countenance about the way he stood. That one was still young, but could be serious, she thought.

The second prince had dark black hair and a happy face. His brown eyes were shining, his features young and full of life. He had almost no beard, just a faint shadow on his chin.

"Fili and Kili" said Dis, pointing at her sons.

"At your service" they answered at the same time.

"Dwia, at yours" she answered.

"So, we finally get to see your daughter, Bofur" said Fili, raising an eyebrow.

"Aye, it's not like you were supposed to introduce her, like … weeks ago!" added Kili, smiling.

"We've missed already so many years together, that I wanted to keep her to myself a bit longer" confessed Bofur.

Dwia smiled at him, and tightened her hold on her father's hand. She was glad as well of those weeks they had spent together, just talking, living together, and enjoying each other's company. And she was grateful, for the sake of her innate shyness, that he had delayed introducing her to everyone.

Dislin interrupted them and started telling everyone about Dwia's smith skills and their journey from Rohan to Ered Luin. She was giving an embellished tale of their last night in Moria, where as she was stressing "Dwia had stolen not only the eyes, but the hearts of every dwarf."

"Of course, she had been admired" said Dis smiling "Such a pretty face"

"Please, my lady, you embarrass me" said Dwia lowering her eyes and blushing "All dwarf ladies at this feast were very elegant and beautiful" she added.

Dislin sighed loudly at Dwia's modesty and shyness.

Kili broke the tension and proposed a toast to celebrate Dwia's arrival amongst them. As he raised his glass, he said softly:

"The most handsome people are not always the ones with beards..." he winked at her.

She smiled at him and nodded, raising her glass to his. His words were very thoughtful and she was touched.

They started to talk about the upcoming journey to Erebor, and the mood immediately turned more serious. Bofur was talking about the necessary items to pack with Fili, as Dis and Dislin gave them advices of caution and worried looks.

Dwia heard Dwalin's voice behind her and she peeked behind her shoulder. He was standing with his back at her, talking to Thorin.

Dwia gasped and turned her head back quickly, closing her eyes for a minute trying to memorize all the details of the King's handsome features.

His long dark hair where thin threads of silver shined. His broad shoulders and straight figure. His serious blue eyes and thin lips through his dark short beard. His dark clothes, finely decorated with carved items of silver.

She opened her eyes again at the sound of her father's voice.

"Dwia? Everything's fine?" he asked, seeing her with closed eyes.

"Yes, just thinking that's all" she answered.

"We've got reasons to worry" grumbled Dislin "with your crazy expedition coming."

There was a silence, and then a deep low voice said calmly:

"Lady Dislin, still worried, I see" Thorin broke in, but his tone was not angry, it was lenient and gentle.

The King was standing at Bofur's side and could not see Dwia as she was standing in the shadow of her father's other side. Dwia's heart was beating madly in her chest, and the Hall felt too small all of a sudden.

"We're the ones staying behind, and left to worry, your Majesty." answered Dislin, courteous, but her tone still firm.

"Aye. That is true." he conceded, glancing once at his sister.

Dis smiled at him and stepped next to Dwia, taking her small shaking hand in hers. She led her in front of the King and said:

"Brother, may I introduce Lady Dwia, daughter of Bofur."

As Dwia raised her eyes, she could see the huge shock in Thorin's eyes, and imagined what he must feel in this moment. Her body felt so warm under his stare. She was even more attracted to him in real life then she had been in her dreams. The tension was so strong, as if the air was growing solid between their two bodies.

Thorin was staring at Dwia, blinking, not caring that the silence between them was lasting longer than was usual between two people who met for the first time.

She was so beautiful and she was real, just there, like in his dreams. Slightly smaller than him, green eyes and blond hair half braided and half falling on her shoulders. Her throat soft and white, her necklace with the Firebeard's symbol glittering.

It was so stunning and good to see her standing there.

It felt like falling in love over and over again.

All the others were looking at the two of them, growing surprised and intrigued as the silence lasted. It was Dis' voice that shook Thorin from his trance.

"Thorin?" she said, softly.

He averted his eyes from Dwia with difficulty, and bowed stiffly to her.

"My Lady, welcome to Ered Luin."

"Your majesty" Dwia curtsied back, her voice a whisper.

"Hey lass! " burst in Dwalin "Nice seeing you here. I hope Dislin did not persuade you of the rightfulness of her anti-Erebor crusade" he said joking.

Dislin glared at him, and the lively conversation started again.

Dwalin's entrance had diffused the tension created at Thorin and Dwia's strange first encounter.

The voices were dancing around them, but neither Dwia, nor Thorin cared. They were deeply troubled by each other's presence and dying to have the chance to speak in private.

But how could it be possible? It would be improper, and weird for two strangers to stand aside and start talking.

Thorin could not use his authority to ask an audience with her, not with her father there. Bofur was his friend and he respected him.

But he could not wait either. There were so many things to ask, to say, so much unfinished dreams and desires between them. So, while the others were still talking loudly, Thorin slipped silently next to her and addressed her in his low voice.

"Do you like it here, my Lady... in Ered Luin?"

"Very much" she answered, blushing under his stare "I've never been happier in my whole life" she confessed to him, and it was true.

"Aye. It's understandable. You have found your father here" he stated "How did you find Moria?" he asked again, his tone slightly pressing.

"Very impressive, but not as lively as Ered Luin" she answered sincerely, her eyes not leaving his for a second "There is less dwarves in Moria than here, but we were very finely settled during our stay. All was made for our comfort."

He smiled warmly at her, one of his true smiles, free of his daily worries. She returned his smile and instinctively took one step closer.

Dwia had never yearned for a man's touch so much in her life.

From the outside, it looked like they were having an innocent and quiet conversation. They still stood at a reasonable distance from each other.

"I'm glad you found the Moria guest's rooms to your taste "he added, in voice quieter. His gaze was searching for an understanding of his words in her eyes, and he found it.

Dwia's heart stopped for a second, and then she grew bold. She wanted so much to tell him that she remembered, that she saw him, that she hadn't stopped thinking about him since.

But she couldn't be so open. So she lowered her gaze and breathed, once, twice.

When she looked back at him, he was still staring at her expectantly.

"I had a wonderful dream in Moria" she whispered, only for him to hear.

It was his turn to blush slightly, and she saw the relief on his face. They had understood each other. Their dreams had been real for both of them.

They did not have the chance to talk again that night, as Thorin was needed when the men were eagerly discussing the Quest.

Later that night, Dwia came home with her father not caring where her feet were leading her.

Something warm had settled in her chest and belly, caressing her every thought with the deepness of his blue eyes.

* * *

**_So? I hope you liked their reunion. I wanted to keep their first (real) meeting both quiet and restrained so that Thorin would not be too much OOC._**

**_Please review ! And have nice sunday :)_**


	22. Chapter 22

_**Disclaimer**_ : I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Michael Nyman.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M (to be safe)

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes :**_ Thank you so much for the amazing reviews ! :)

I'm pleased that you liked the last chapter and the way Dwia and Thorin behaved toward each other. They both have their own different personalities, which they must keep throughout the story (at least, I'm trying to achieve that ;)

I think they are both very private people. More cute moments between them in this chapter :)

The title for this chapter is taken from the amazing original soundtrack of the movie "The piano" by Jane Campion (I'm always completely shaken each time I watch it).

* * *

**Chapter 22 : The promise**

A week. That was when the Company would leave.

So soon.

Three days ago. That was when she last she saw him.

Such a long time.

Dwia was restless. He was so near, and soon he would be so far. She needed time with him. She needed to see him, before … before he left. Would he return? Would they ever return?

Thorin? her father? her friends?

The future had become so blurry, so fast. A shadow was growing in her mind, in her dreams, like a weight crushing her with each step.

Dwia felt like she was forced to step into the darkness, after tasting the sweetness of light, for a such a short time.

But the sadness would not break her, she would not allow it. She had come this far, she had found her family, she had made friends, she had found the man that haunted her dreams.

So, she would enjoy every moment she had left with all of them.

Dislin quickly noticed her distress, herself already concerned by the departure of the Company. The bossy dwarf woman decided to have a supper at her house, to lighten up the mood. To be all together while it was still possible.

Dwia arrived at the end of the afternoon to help her with dessert.

For an hour, it was just the two women working in silence in the kitchen. Dislin was often glancing at her younger friend with concern. Dwia's face was either stern or frowning. She remained focused on her task of clipping the biscuits.

After another long silence, Dislin made Dwia sit and took her small floured hands in hers.

"What's wrong, dear? Is it about the Quest?" she asked, searching for emotions and answers on Dwia's face.

"It's everything, I guess" confessed Dwia "The Quest, my father, the parting..."

"Aye" nodded Dislin, sighing "We'll be even more restless after they're gone. But we'll keep each other sane" she added with a reassuring smile.

"You're right" nodded Dwia "I must be even harder for Dis. She's watching all her family leave at once. Her brother. And her sons."

"We'll be at her side, don't worry" said Dislin in a calm voice "But I have the feeling something else is troubling you, am I right?"

Dwia looked at her friend, reluctant to tell her about her strange relationship with the King. It was private. And it was crazy: shared dreams for years, strange attraction …

No she couldn't tell.

"Does it have something to do with our stern King?" asked Dislin, with a raised eyebrow.

Dwia gasped and stared at her friend in shock. This is just amazing how those who know us best can read us like an open book. Something you tend to forget.

Dwia averted her eyes, not answering.

Dislin sighed and got back to cleaning the glasses.

"Just so you know" she added lightly "Him and his family are invited tonight. But he usually never comes. Too busy."

Dislin took the tray of glasses to the living room, leaving Dwia both hopeful and disappointed at the same time.

* * *

The guests arrived soon enough, and it distracted her from the disturbing thoughts and urges she felt towards Thorin.

They had all gathered around the table and started to dig in Dislin's great food.

Balin and Dwalin were talking with the princes about their last training session. Dis and Dislin were discussing the amount of clothes that needed mending before the dwarves' departure.

Dwia was half listening to the conversations, her mood clouded by an unusual loneliness.

She did not hear the front door opening.

He came towards the happy gathering and expressed his apologies at his lateness. They welcomed him loudly, rousing Dwia from her dizzy state.

Thorin nodded at them all, with a small smile, but there was only one pair of eyes he was searching for.

When Dwia saw him taking the seat opposite her, she had an adorable smile on her face and her eyes were twinkling. At this moment, she did not care that she was grinning madly at the King of Ered Luin, hardly an appropriate greeting since it was only their second official meeting.

He did not notice Dislin pouring him a glass of wine, nor his sister throwing him a surprised glance.

Dwia raised her glass to him, still smiling and drank, her eyes not leaving his.

The supper went on in a good mood, but when dessert was served, Balin raised the subject of the portents. Oin had gone to collect their predictions again, and the time was right for the Quest, he reaffirmed.

Dislin couldn't stop herself from sighing again:

"I know I can't prevent you from leaving" she said to her brothers "but that doesn't mean I approve this crazy venture"

"Aye. Even if I understand as much as you the need to reclaim Erebor, I still think Fili and Kili are too young to go with you" added Dis to her brother, her proud face very serious.

"But we're of age, Mum !" cried Kili adamantly "You can't stop us. I improved my shooting so well I could kill an orc even if he stood at half a mile!"

"You're boasting, little brother" Fili told him teasingly.

"No, I'm not!" Kili snapped at him, frowning and striking his brother on the arm "Stop acting like I'm a baby. I'm not even the youngest in this room..." he added finally, glancing once at Dwia who stood on the other side of the table.

"Sorry to contradict you, but you are the youngest dwarf here" Dis told her son with a smirk.

"Aye" Dwia confirmed softly "I'm 91."

"Well, you don't look like it, dear" said Dislin gently.

"And you certainly are not as young as my sons..." added Dis, with a grin.

"Hey, Mum, what does it mean?" asked Kili with a hurtful look on his young face.

"That you're still a bit foolish and reckless, dear" said his mother gently, patting his beardless cheek.

Laughter erupted from everyone at the table.

Even Thorin had an amused smile on his lips. Dwia did not miss the opportunity to catch it. He looked so much younger and even more handsome when he smiled.

When the atmosphere quieted again, Thorin stated in his low voice, filled with the innate authority of the leader:

"Fili and Kili are of age, Dis. The choice to leave is theirs now. They have to start facing the consequences of their decisions. And, it's about time they see the world."

"Aye, we've been stuck in Ered Luin for far too long already" added Fili.

All male dwarves nodded.

But what they could not understand what how hard it would be for Dis to see her sons go. They could not understand. They did not possess a mother's heart, filled with constant worry.

Thorin saw his sister's sadness and reached to cover her hand with his, in a comforting gesture.

Dwia was amazed at the different features of Thorin's character, and to see him acting so gentle with his family. Even if his main personality remained stern and serious. She accepted his sternness; it was part of his past and clouded his present. It showed to all who he had to become, like a scar reminding him of the sad events of his life.

But Dwia understood. She understood these psychological scars.

She had, after all, witnessed the Fall of Erebor.

"You're very quiet Dwia this evening" noticed Balin, with a concerned look.

"We all have a lot on our minds" she answered quietly.

"That's true" sighed Dislin, resting her back on her chair as tiredness claimed her.

"I'm sorry that you have to be parted from your father so soon" Dis said to Dwia, her face apologetic. Glancing at Thorin, she saw he was nodding faintly, as if agreeing with his sister's words.

Brother and sister were now both looking at her, waiting for her reaction. Maybe they were expecting her to be angry, to be scared, to be distraught… to cry?

She was feeling all of that at once, and she remained strangely quiet.

"I understand" Dwia eventually said slowly, weighting her words "It has to be done."

All eyes were on her now, and the room was completely quiet. They were all listening to her, because it was not often that she shared her opinion on so serious a subject. She could feel their eyes on her, but she was staring only at Thorin when she continued, in her soft voice:

"They are some things the time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep that have taken hold" she paused, and then looked at all of them "I will remain, I will wait and pray Mahal to protect you all. But it has to be done."

And then, she turned back to look at Thorin. Everyone could see that there was something peculiar between them. An older bond, older than they could never have guessed.

When Dwia spoke again, the words that her lips formed came from a deep place inside her soul, and she told him something she had known all her life:

"There is no other way."

Then, Thorin surprised them all by taking Dwia's hand in his, in an approving gesture of her words. She had seen through his heart and worries like no one had before. Of course, she had.

Dwia smiled at him, her eyes resigned but full of hope at the same time.

Her skin was tingling everywhere, the agreeable sensation spreading from his warm hand.

"You're definitely much older than Kili" whispered Dis at Dwia's serious words.

Supper came to an end, and Dis left with her sons.

Dwalin then got up to escort Dwia back home, but Thorin put an arm on his friend's shoulder. He asked quietly:

"May I have the honor of escorting Dwia back home?"

"Aye, of course" answered Dwalin, smiling and looking at his two friends. He could never have guessed that his King could care for a woman in that way. But Dwia and Thorin seemed to search each other's presence and it was all he wanted to know.

Dwalin wanted to see her happy before they left.

Thorin helped Dwia into her cloak and opened the door for her.

They left the house quietly, both behaving like two people knowing each other for a very long time, and longing to become more intimate.

When the front door closed behind them, Balin, Dwalin and Dislin all smiled at each other at the same time, a surprised look upon all their faces.

"Mahal's beard!" exclaimed Dislin "Is there actually a living dwarf beneath the King of stone?"

"He was so gentle with her tonight, almost ...enamored" said Balin with raised eyebrows.

"Of course, he can be gentle and kind" cut Dwalin, defending his king and friend "You've seen the way he takes care of Dis and his nephews."

"Aye. But it's different" stated Dislin smirking "Dwia's not part of his family and he just met her three days ago. There's definitely something going on between these two."

Balin and Dwalin looked suddenly uncomfortable with the matter.

"Not our business" grumbled Dwalin.

"So you admit, there's something!" said Dislin triumphantly, before bringing back the plates in the kitchen.

Dwalin sighed and sat back on his chair.

Balin did the same and after a long pause, he said thoughtfully:

"She's right, you know. I've known him all my life and I never saw him like that."

The brothers smiled at each other.

* * *

They walked in silence next to each other in the deserted and dark streets of Ered Luin. The pavement was shining underneath their quiet feet. They sometimes glanced at each other, just to be rewarded with the smile of the other.

When they arrived at her door, he took her hand in his gently, for the second time that night.

Dwia shivered from the closeness of him.

"I never thought I would see those eyes again" Thorin confessed, whispering.

"We're both blessed, then" Dwia added, stepping one step closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

Her hungry eyes were watching him, his face, his eyes, his shoulders, his arms, his hair, his lips... memorizing every one of those features she had come to love.

Thorin felt so light, so free, next to her. She somehow took off him the burden of his fate, just for a short while. He felt like a young dwarf, like before the fall of Erebor, so carefree.

"There's so much I wish to say to you" he said, his voice almost pained.

"And so little time" she replied, her voice tense.

"How did you know... about the Quest?" he asked, curious "How did you know how I feel?"

"I had these dreams for all my life. About the fall of Erebor, the dwarves' exile, the battle of Azanulbizar... I've seen our people's fate, the sorrow, the anger, the helplessness... I think that's why I can understand. Dwalin calls me "the memory" of our race" she finally confessed in a rush, but smiling.

"But why did you have those dreams? Did they mean something?" he wanted to understand.

"It's all part of my fate, I've been told. I still do not understand it all" she said simply.

"Who told you?"

"A wizard. Radagast is his name. I lived with him for some time. He explained to me that those dreams are necessary for my future, which is deeply linked to the future of Durin's folk. But not even the very wise can see all ends."

Thorin's expression was still stunned and baffled.

There was so much about her he didn't know. Dwia sensed his confusion, so she tightened her fingers around his and stroke his palm gently.

"We will have to share our pasts one day" she offered.

"Aye" he nodded, now smiling.

They stayed like that for a while, just lost in each other's stare. They did not want this moment to end.

It was the first time they were completely alone.

"You should go inside" he said, eventually "It's not proper for me to keep you out so long."

Her smile faded a little and she crept closer to him, their bodies pressed together. Their hands trapped between them, still entwined, their breaths mingling.

They could both feel the delicious heat of the other.

"You'll catch cold" he whispered, running out of reasons to make her go inside.

"How could I?" she answered, her lips slightly parted in her smile, her delicate scent intoxicating him.

Thorin smiled softly and pressed her tighter against him for a second before letting her go.

He finally released her hands, still bearing a happy and slightly confused look on his face. Thorin was not used to share his feelings, nor was he used to feel so happy, so light.

An old memory of a delighted and very excited young Kili at his first visit to the toy shop stepped into his mind.

Yes, Thorin was feeling just like that.

And it was weird to feel this way.

Dwia looked a little disappointed that he had let go of her hands. Her face was so sweet.

_She_ was so sweet.

He could not leave just like that.

He had to tell her how much he wanted to stay with her. So he reached forwards again and took her hands in his with strength, and brought them to his lips, once.

She was surprised and delighted at the same time, the feeling of his lips against her skin amazing.

"I'll see you soon" he told her seriously, before stepping back and leaving in a hurry towards the dark streets.

Dwia sighed but got inside her house eventually.

A soft smile did not leave her face until she fell asleep.

* * *

**I hope you liked this chapter. Please review and have a great evening :)**


	23. Chapter 23

_**Disclaimer**_ : I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to either the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, or to Peter Jackson or to the singers/bands whose songs titles (no lyrics) are quoted in this story.

This chapter's title belongs to Aretha Franklin.

_**Genre**_ : Romance

_**Rating**_ : M - slightly fluffy chapter

_**Pairing**_ : OC/Thorin

_**Notes**_: Thank you for the lovely reviews ! And thanks to every one that read, fav or follow this story :)

It's a great adventure to write it, and a joy to read your comments !

* * *

**Chapter 23 : I say a little prayer **

The next days passed in a blur.

Dwia helped her father getting ready for the Quest, cleaning and closing the toy shop, mending clothes, gathering all sorts of items they would need on the road…

It was good, all this activity.

It kept her mind occupied somehow, so she did not have to think about the parting. And it made her happy to spend time with her father.

But at night, she could not ignore the corset tightening on her heart… tighter, tighter with each day.

Bofur had noticed Dwia's sadness. He knew it was natural that she would be sad that her family and friends were leaving, but he felt there was something more, something deeper.

He had talked with Dwalin about it, and the latter informed him of Thorin and Dwia's close and strange relationship.

Bofur had already noticed how his daughter's eyes were coming alive, whenever the King was quoted.

He did not want to pry into her private live. He wasn't like that.

Of course, Dwia must feel terrible about the Company's departure. He would have stayed with his daughter in Ered Luin, if it had been possible. But he was already committed to the Quest and to his King. His kin was leaving as well. He had to go and leave Dwia behind, even if it was the most painful thing he ever had to do.

Bofur did not know what to do to comfort her, so he just hugged her more often whispering that he just wanted her to be happy.

He was just there for her, as she was for him. And it was all that mattered.

Dwia missed Thorin terribly, day and night, but there was just not any opportunity to see him. Her misery was written daily on her sweet face.

So Dwalin and Dislin thought of something.

One late afternoon, two days before the Company's departure, Dwia had come to have tea with Dislin, when Dwalin got down the stairs and called to his sister:

"Dislin, where are my mittens?"

"You lost them when we were last on the road, do you not remember?" Dislin answered genuinely.

"And what am I supposed to do now?!" he asked in a false angry tone.

"Dis should have a spare pair. Go and ask her."

"I can't, I've got so much things to do before we leave!" he exclaimed.

"Well, I can't go either. I've got a stew on the stove" Dislin answered, her tone final.

The siblings just stood glaring at each other across the room, when Dwia's small voice broke in:

"I can go, if you wish, Dwalin…" she offered, eager to visit Dis, and maybe have a chance to see Thorin.

"We don't want to bother you..." said the siblings at the same time.

"It's fine, really. I'm restless as it is. So it'll give me something to do with myself" Dwia said, smiling unconsciously and already putting on her cloak.

"Then thanks, dear" said Dislin grinning.

Dwia did not see her friends' smug faces; she was already walking, quickly, quicker than was needed, towards the King's lodgings.

Of course, Dislin knew that Dis and her boys were out that day, visiting a nearby relative.

Dwia arrived at the broad door and ringed the door bell, the shrill sound echoing her own madly beating heart. She knew she had been obvious, but she did not care. They were leaving in two days, and she just could not stay away from him any longer.

May Dwalin's lost mittens be blessed!

Dwia took a deep breath as Mar, Dis' maid, opened the door and smiled at her.

"Miss Dwia, what can I do for you?" she said, allowing her in.

"I've come to see Dis, at Dwalin's request, to borrow a spare pair of mittens, if she has one?"

"Aye. She certainly has. The mistress is out, but I'll go look. Come in".

Mar led Dwia into the living room and motioned for her to sit in a nearby chair.

Dwia sat, clutching her hands together, as Mar left her alone in the dim room.

The maid had just closed the door behind her, when another door opened. Dwia heard the cracking of the door behind her and turned swiftly to look behind her shoulder.

"I thought I heard your voice" he said, walking quickly to her side.

She got up and went to him as well, the warm feeling of belonging hitting her, as soon as he took her hands in his.

"I missed you" she whispered.

"Aye. I did too. I wanted to see you one more time before we go" Thorin sighed and added "Just us."

"Just us" she repeated, as he raised a large hand to caress her soft cheek.

"I was going to come and see you tomorrow night, just before our departure" he confessed.

"What about my father?" she asked slightly worried. She did not to want cause Bofur any distress.

"I will tell him. I don't want to hide. I want to make this right" Thorin told her firmly. In his voice could be heard the authority of the leader used to stand by his choices.

"I don't want to hide either" Dwia confessed softly.

His face was really close, their noses almost touching. She could see the deepness of his blue eyes, the silver streaks in his black hair, and the lines at the corner of his mouth as he smiled at her.

The door reopened and Mar stepped in again.

Instinctively, Thorin and Dwia let go of each other.

"Miss Dwia, I found some mittens. I think they'll fit Master Dwalin" she said, handing them to her.

"Thank you, Mar" she stuttered, still dazed by Thorin's proximity.

"No problem, Miss"

Mar stared at the tension between Dwia and her master, and there was a short uncomfortable silence.

"That will be all, Mar. Thank you" Thorin told her "I'll see Miss Dwia out."

"Aye, master" Mar nodded, curtsied with a slight grin and left them.

But Thorin did not see Dwia out. Instead, he led her through the door he had just come through, into his study.

Dwia felt so thrilled to be alone with him, she was almost boiling.

His study had not changed since she saw it last in her dreams: the same fireplace, the same huge desk covered with papers, the same dim light, and the red carpet on the floor.

She walked inside the room, until they got close to the desk.

An old map was unrolled on the corner of the table: the map of Erebor. A flow of images from her dreams assaulted her when seeing the map.

Thorin crept silently behind her and stood almost with his chin on her shoulder. The gesture was almost intimate and felt delightful to Dwia.

"Home" he whispered, gazing at the Mountain as well.

"I used to stay up for hours contemplating its shape in the darkness before going to sleep, as a child" Dwia said dreamily.

"You lived near Erebor?" he asked, surprised.

"Aye. In Esgaroth when I was young" She turned back to face him "There's so much I haven't told you." The statement was funny and sad at the same time.

"We've both lived before meeting each other, it's natural" he said in a practical manner.

"I remember this room..." she whispered after a moment of silence.

"It was the first time I saw your eyes" he said, enclosing softly her face between his hands, letting his fingers slide on each side of her ears, through her dark blond curls.

The feeling was amazing, like he was spreading warmth all over her body, after being cold for too many years.

She closed her eyes for a second and put her hands on his chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt.

When she reopened her eyes, his face was so close she could feel his intoxicating breath on her lips. She did not know where to look, at his lips or at his eyes. He seemed lost in the contemplation of her wide eyes.

Dwia wanted just one thing in this moment: to taste him.

So she pressed her body against his, crushing her breasts against his hard chest, and she captured his lips with hers.

The sensation was unique.

Dwia had never felt anything like it. She only yearned to burn forever in his arms.

His hunger for her, that she could feel, as one of his hands crept to her lower back to press her harder against him, as he tangled his fingers deeper in her hair.

Her hands were now clutching his shirt, small fingers gently sliding on the side of his neck.

It was not a hesitant kiss.

It was a kiss full of need and long repressed mutual desire.

They were left breathing heavily afterwards, their foreheads touching and both smiling smugly.

"Mahal's beard, what are you doing to me…?" he asked, his voice low with desire.

"I don't know, but I think you liked it" she whispered grinning.

Dwia stayed in Thorin's study for almost an hour. They talked and kissed some more, before she had to leave. It was already suspicious that she had stayed this long.

Clutching the blessed mittens in her hands, she stared back at him one last time before leaving.

His face seemed calmer; the lines on his face fewer, his smile still gorgeous.

She had waited all her life to meet him, and now she realized how simple it was to love the dwarf that had haunted her nights for so long.

* * *

On the eve of the Company's departure, Dwia left work earlier and locked herself in the kitchen. She wanted to prepare a fine supper for her family for their last night together.

She heard the front door opening and closing several times, but did not bother to come out of the kitchen. It must have been Bifur, Bombur and her father coming back from work or from some last minute errands.

When the stew and apple pie were done, she sat down for a minute. It was when she heard the sound of chairs coming from the living room.

She then heard Bofur's voice through the door:

"Dwia? Could you come out for a minute?"

She wiped her hands on her apron, opened the kitchen door and had quite a shock.

Standing inside the living room next to her father, was Thorin.

She silently walked to her father's side, casting cautious and anxious glances from one dwarf to the other. Fortunately, Bofur was a private man, and not particularly good in emotional situations either. He just cleared his throat and said:

"Well, Thorin told me, about … about you two."

"Aye. I wanted to do things properly" the King added, as he stood straight, his hands behind his back.

"And ...?" Dwia asked her father anxiously, in small squeak "Are you fine with it?"

"Of course!" Bofur answered quickly and almost apologetically "Sorry, I'm not very good at this. But I'm happy for you."

"Thanks" she just said hugging her father tightly, smiling now.

When she let go, they all stared at each other with uncomfortable smiles on their faces. In order to diffuse the tension, Bofur added to tease her:

"I mean, a King. You could have chosen worst..."

They all laughed at that. There was another silence and Dwia surprised them both by reaching to take one each of their hands. She turned very serious all of a sudden.

"You have to promise me to take care of each other" she asked, her voice cracking "And of all the Company."

The dwarves both nodded at her solemnly. There was nothing more to say.

The Quest would be dangerous, they all knew that.

"I have to go now" said Thorin, not wanting to intrude on their last night together.

He took Dwia's hand in his, and kissed her knuckles, sending shivers down her arms.

He then nodded to Bofur respectfully, and left.

Bofur put an arm on his daughter's shoulder and pressed her against his side. The parting time was near, and she hoped she would be able to gather her courage to face it.

She threw her arms violently around her father's neck and sobbed, in a loud manner that was not her usual self.

"I'm going to miss you both so much!"

"As will we" he softly said, hugging her as well.

* * *

The morning of departure had finally come and they were all gathered in front of the West Gate of Ered Luin.

It was very early in the morning, and the streets were still deserted, the sun slowly lighting up the hills.

All members of the Company were saying their goodbye to their families. There were lots of hugs, some weeping, and a few smiles.

Thorin came close to Dwia and led her slightly apart the group, against one of the massive wooden doors. He took her hand in his and kissed her palm, pressing her skin deep against his lips. She cupped his face, caressing his beard, her eyes full of unshed tears.

He did not release her hand and retrieved something from his pocket. It was a simple silver bracelet adorned with the symbol of Durin.

He fastened it carefully on her wrist, and bent his head to stare at the bracelet.

"It's not a promise because I do not see how it ends" he whispered to her "But it's all my hopes."

"Dream of me, on the road. I will try to come to you in your sleep" she said, trying to comfort them both and not knowing if she could indeed do that, if she could share his reality when she wanted to.

He pressed her hand against his chest, not daring to kiss her in front of all the Company.

His face was hard and sad when he let go of her hand, taking the warmth and joy with him. His last stare at her was resigned and stern, an expression she had seen so many times on his beautiful features.

She wanted to hope.

Dwia rushed one last time to hug her father, whispering words of caution and love in his shoulder. When she let go, the Company stepped aside and started to pass the threshold out of Ered Luin.

She felt Dislin warm hand slip into her own. They had each other.

Even after this terrible parting, she would not be alone.

Dwia watched as the dwarves became shapes in the landscape, and then faded completely.

When she went back inside the mountain led by Dislin who still held a crying Dis, her tears had dried on her lips, leaving only the cold and salty flavor.

Her mind was numb and void of light.

* * *

**Sad ending for this chapter. Things are going to get more angsty in the next...**

**I thought it would be more realistic that Dwia does not join the dwarves on their Quest (Dis and Dislin are staying behind), but she'll get her own adventure soon enough... ;)**

**Please review and let me know what you think ! :)**


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